Good Morning Albuquerque
by Frankincense Pontipee
Summary: "Everything I just said to you about this guy, I take it back. He's patronising, he's arrogant, he's closed-minded and he wears really STUPID SHOES!" The course of true love, or decent morning televison, for that matter, never did run smooth.
1. Trailer

**OK. I'll level with you. I love story trailers. Not that every story should have them, of course, you'll notice that none of my other stories have them, but this story felt a bit movie-like anyway, so I thought a trailer might make sense. Plus, I loved writing it.**

**Anyway. Sorry if you don't like trailers, I hope it doesn't put you off reading this story. Just skip forward a chapter and pretend it never happened!**

* * *

Shows a TV screen.

TV Announcer: _And now for Good Morning Albuquerque with Gabriella Montez._

Wife, dashing to the foot of the stairs: _Honey, it's GMA!_

On-screen, Gabriella Montez, in jeans and tan corduroy jacket: _I'm here at Popejoy Hall, with members of Eisenhower, Desert Ridge and Hoover Middle schools, who are all taking part in the city-wide Thanksgiving Pageant._ [Checks her watch _It's 8:03, I'm Gabriella Montez..._

Wife and Husband chant along: _Good Morning Albuquerque!_

**In Albuquerque, Gabriella Montez was a household name.**

Girl in East High cheer-leading uniform: _Did you see GMA this morning?_

Friend: _Of course! She's like, my idol. Did you see her shoes?_

Other friend: _OMG, they totally rocked._

Shows jock's locker open,and Gabby's picture taped up.

Man playing chess in city park: _That Montez girl sure looked pretty this morning._

Friend: _She opened the fair at my grandson's school yesterday. Turned up half an hour early, and stayed to help tidy up at the end, my daughter said._

**She had a great job...**

Shows Gabby entering the TV studios.

**...A great guy...**

Shows Gabby knocking on door that says _Elliot Hunter, Studio Executive_, and kissing the handsome man who opens it.

**...A great life...**

Shows Gabby jogging through city park in early morning.

Shows her in a bar, laughing with her friends Taylor, Chad, Zeke, Ryan, Jason, Kelsi and Sharpay.

**...That is, until, Troy Bolton came into her life...**

At a cocktail party.

Elliot: _Honey, I want you to meet the guy who's come all the way from New York to present GMA with you._

Gabby: _I'm sorry Elliot, I must be having some kind of break-down, I thought you said he was co-hosting GMA with me._

Troy, holding out his hand: _Troy Bolton, Miss Montez, good to meet you. I watched your show this morning. You have a real folksy charm._

In a café, the next day.

Sharpay, Kelsi and Taylor: _He said WHAT?_

Sharpay: _What did you do?_

Cut back to cocktail party.

Gabby looks blankly at her boyfriend, before tipping her red wine down his shirt: _Oh Elliot, I appear to have spilt a little wine on your new suit. I do apologise. Did I accidentally get any on you, Mr Bolton? I'm just too, too thrilled to finally have someone to show me how to present local TV, I've only been doing it for FOUR YEARS._

She walks away, leaving both men dripping red wine.

Troy:_ I like her._

**...And everything changed.**

Shows TV screen.

Gabriella in jeans, jacket and cowboy boots: _I'm here..._

Troy in sharp, city suit: _We're here in the Sandia foothills for the switch-on of the second-largest wind farm in New Mexico, supplying Duke City with clean, reusable energy. I'm Troy Bolton, and..._

Gabby: _And I'm Gabriella Montez._

Both, trying to say it before the other: _Good Morning Albuquerque!_

Shows Sharpay, Kelsi and Taylor watching the TV.

Kelsi: _This is bad._

Gabby, marching out of her office: _This is WAR!_

**This fall, the biggest news story in Albuquerque...**

Shows various clips of Gabby and Troy reporting together from places in and around the city.

**...Is happening behind the cameras...**

At Sharpay's house.

Sharpay: _Maybe you should give him a break, Gabs._

Gabby: _Are you kidding me? He's trying to take my show away from me and I should give _HIM_ a break? He's just so...so..._

Cut to office, Gabby looks up from her work and finds Troy looking at her. They hold their gaze.

Cut back to Sharpay's house.

Taylor: _You _like_ him, don't you?_

**...And morning television will never be the same.**

On a pier, just before going live.

Gabby: _You've gotta lose the suit! You look ridiculous!_

Troy: I _look ridiculous? _You're _the one who looks like she turned up for a day at the fair!_

Gabby: _I thought that was part of my folksy charm._

Troy: _Well you look like a college graduate._

Gabby: _And you look like a bank manager._

Gabby elbows Troy in the ribs and he overbalances into the lake.

Troy, in the water: _What...how...you..._

Gabby: _Mmm, folksy, and yet...street smarts._

Troy climbs out of the lake, and squeezes water out of his jacket.

Director: _Guys? You're on in 5._

Cut to...

Director:_ Action!_

Shows Troy in borrowed jeans, T-shirt and jacket, and with wet hair: _We're at the Rio Grande Botanic Garden, home to the largest cottonwood gallery forest in the world. _[Checks watch, finds it not working and glares at Gabby

Gabby, checks her watch:_ It's 8:02, I'm Gabriella Montez..._

Troy: _And I'm Troy Bolton._

Both: _Good Morning Albuquerque!_

**Good Morning Albuquerque.**

_**Coming soon.**_


	2. It's going to be a loooong day

**It's going to be a loooong day…**

"We're on in fifteen!"

"Where's Gabriella?"

"She was in makeup when I last saw her."

Seated in his directors chair, Jon Breckin accepted his third double espresso of the day and hailed a passing sound man. "Leo, find Gabs would you?"

"Yes sir!"

"Thanks. Oh, and while you're at it…" Jon leant back in his seat and waved to attract Leo's attention, but he was already out of earshot. His assistant Mia appeared at that same moment, demonstrating once again the amazing talent she had for always being in the right place at the right time.

"Need anything?"

"Yes. Yes." He passed his hand wearily through his hair. "I appear to have lost both of my presenters. Leo's gone in search of Gabs, but I haven't the faintest idea where Bolton's got to. Could you…"

His question remained unasked, for at that moment, the door to the makeup trailer crashed open and a brown leather briefcase came sailing through the air, followed by a pair of expensive looking wingtips.

"…and if you ever give me tips for professionalism in front of the camera again, it won't just be your SHOES I drop-kick!"

There was the sound of a male voice saying something and then…

"I DON'T CARE HOW MUCH THEY COST!"

Jon drained his coffee in one, crumpled the cardboard cup and added it to the growing pile by his feet. Mia tore her eyes from the makeup trailer, an amused smile on her face which she tried in vain to hide. Jon looked up at her and narrowed his eyes.

"Don't….just…just…don't." Elbows on the arm rests of his chair, he buried his face in his hands. Mia smiled again, and removed the pile of papers from his lap, replacing them with the running schedule for the morning's show.

"More coffee?"

Jon looked up at her through his fingers. "Keep them coming." He watched her retreating figure and sighed, turning his attention to the schedule. "It's going to be a looooong day…"


	3. Plenty pepped already

**Plenty pepped already**

_Two weeks previously_

"Gabs, Jon wanted me to give you…Gabs?"

Sitting cross-legged on the hood of the production van, Gabriella Montez looked up with a start from her running schedule to see Mia standing in front of her.

"Sorry honey, didn't hear you. There have been so many changes to the schedule since the meeting yesterday, I was just getting it sorted in my head." She stretched her legs out in front of her, and slid of the hood of the van. "What did Jon want you to give me?"

Mia looked regretfully down at the folder attached to the front of her clipboard. "Another schedule. I think it was the staff at one of the schools this time, something to do with children and costumes and changing times? Anyway, he said to say sorry, but that you'd want to familiarise yourself with pages two, seven and twelve."

Gabby shook her head. "No, that's fine, I hadn't properly got stuck in anyway. I was going to go and get a latte actually, you got time to grab one?"

Mia checked her watch. "Yeah, if we're quick. I told Jon we'd go meet the kids at half past, their teachers are getting them ready but they all wanted to meet you."

Gabby smiled. This was the best part of her job. "Sure, I'd love that." She linked arms with her friend and they crossed over the road to the coffee shop that had, since opening early that morning, played host to a large number of caffeine-dependant crew members.

Five minutes later, coffees in hands, they made their way to the area where a large number of excited school children were being helped into their costumes by teachers. There was a murmured hush as she entered the room, as the children recognised the woman who had, for four years, presented the most watched local TV show in New Mexico.

"I'll introduce you to the teachers we've been working with and then I'll leave you here if that's OK." said Mia.

"Sure, honey, not a problem, you go and make sure that Jon's not tearing his hair out."

Introductions made, Mia dashed off, draining the last of her latte as she went. Gabby perched on the edge of a table, put her coffee down and clapped her hands for quiet.

"Hi guys, I'm Gabriella. The show's going to be starting in a little bit, but I just wanted to come by and thank you all for your help this morning. I know it's meant quite an early start for everyone," She glanced at the teachers and grinned, "but I know you're all going to have a lot of fun, plus, I happen to know that we ordered extra ice cream for when the show's finished." She turned to the teachers standing round the edge of the room. "Someone will be coming by in a moment to show you where to go, but for the moment, it's probably best if you just sit tight here if that's OK. Right then," she glanced at her watch, "I need to go get ready now, but I'll see you all in a while. Bye kids, thanks again!"

She left the room, laughing at the chorus of "Goodbye Miss Montez!" that followed her out.

Stopping at the tiny cabin that she and Mia laughingly referred to as her 'dressing room', she checked her makeup and grabbed her favourite tan corduroy jacket. Then, her new copy of the running schedule under her arm, she went to check in with Jon. He grinned as she approached.

"Everything OK, Montez?"

"Fine thanks, Breckin." She sat down in the chair next to his. "Any more changes to the schedule I should be aware of?"

Jon opened his mouth to say something apologetic, but caught the laugh in her eyes just in time. "Nice try. No, actually, everything's fine I think. You're all set?"

"Yep, and Mia took me to meet the kids."

"Yeah, me too. You sure they need ice cream afterwards? They seemed plenty pepped up already."

"We're on in ten!" The shout from the assistant director came from behind the production van, and they left their debate on the necessity of ice cream for another time. In no time at all, Gabby was standing on a large flight of steps, surrounded by children in their Thanksgiving costumes, and receiving her cue from the producer.

"I'm here at Popejoy Hall, with members of Eisenhower, Desert Ridge and Hoover Middle schools, who are taking part in the city pageant later this week." She checked her watch and looked back at the camera, "It's 8:03, I'm Gabriella Montez, Good Morning Albuquerque!"

* * *

"Good work guys, thanks for your help!" Two and a half hours later, the coaches containing highly excitable school children swung out of the car park and down the road. Gabriella gave one last wave, and went back to make sure she had collected all her possessions before heading back to the TV studio.

"Good show, Montez." Jon shouted from the driver's seat of his car at the same time as Mia hung out of the passenger side shouting "Need a lift Gabs?"

Gabby laughed. "Thanks Jon, you too. And thanks for the offer Mia, but I brought my car this morning. I'll see you guys back at the office."


	4. Great show

**Great show**

Getting into her car a few minutes later, Gabby selected Shania Twain's Greatest Hits as representative of her mood, and rolled down her windows to enjoy the pure, if chilly, November air. Life was good, she decided. The sun was shining in a cloudless sky, the show had gone well, Shania was singing about how that didn't impress her much, and there was one afternoon in the office before the end of the week, when she and Jon and the rest of the weekday GMA crew gave way to the weekend team. She sighed happily, pushing her hair out of her eyes. It had been a good week, but exhausting, and she was looking forward to relaxing, enjoying the sunshine, spending some time with her boyfriend, and catching up with her friends.

"Morning!" Sam, the receptionist looked up from her work as Gabby got off the elevator. Gabby looked horrified and checked her watch.

"Morning? It's still morning? I felt sure it was nearly time for lunch!" She grinned. "How's your day been so far?"

"Ah you know, the high-flying jet-set lifestyle of the TV Studio receptionist…parties…photo-shoots. You know the drill."

"Yeah, yeah." Gabby laughed as she crossed the lobby to where Jaime, the other receptionist, was finishing a phone call.

"Hey hon," she gestured to the door behind Jaime's desk, where gold letters spelt out _Elliot Hunter, Studio Executive_, "Is he in?"

Jaime nodded. "Yep, you've just caught him. He's just finishing a conference call, and about to go to a lunch meeting about the cocktail party tomorrow night. Shall I let him know you're here?"

"Hang on a sec. Can I see the diary?" Gabby rounded the desk, and perching on the edge, flipped through the book that Jaime handed her. Running her finger down the page for that day, and finding nothing entered in the evening, she handed it back. "Thanks J, that's great. I'll see you later."

Elliot opened the door just as she was finishing knocking.

"I thought I heard your voice." He smiled his beautiful smile and kissed her. "Great show, sweetie."

Gabby sighed, and, moving further into his office, collapsed onto the sofa. "Really?"

"Absolutely. I didn't get to see as much of it as I'd have liked, I was a little tied up with meetings first thing this morning, but it went really smoothly as far as I could see. Jon did a great job of keeping on top of all the changes too."

"Yeah, that was a challenge." She sat forward, released her hair from its ponytail and massaged her temples. "Fun though. The kids were brilliant but I know how Kelsi feels now."

Elliot looked confused for a moment. "Kelsi?"

Gabby sighed. "Kelsi. My friend Kelsi from college, who teaches kindergarten? You must have heard me talking about her, Elliot, I see her all the time. Although you wouldn't know that now would you," she poked him in the ribs, "because you've never met my friends…"

"Don't start this again Gabby," Elliot sighed impatiently, "You know I'd meet them if I had time, but my weeks are so full, and I like to spend the little time I do have free with you." He sat down next to her on the sofa and slid his arm around her.

"I understand, I really do, but it's just that we've been dating for six months and I've met all your college buddies and I went to that wedding with you in New York, but you've still never met any of my friends. And," she focussed on the buttons on his shirt, "they're important to me too, you know."

"OK. Fine, OK." Elliot sounded just a touch resigned. "We'll set something up and I can meet them. Dinner, maybe."

"That would be great!" Gabriella bounced on the sofa excitedly. "We can go meet them tonight at The Lounge!"

"Tonight? Honey, I would, but…"

"But what? I checked the diary and you don't have anything booked. Jaime didn't think you were seeing anyone tonight. You're not busy are you? Again?"

"Gabby, the party tomorrow is really important for the Studio. Executives from Studios all over the country have been invited and it's absolutely vital that we make a good impression." He motioned to the phone, "I just arranged to have dinner with Ted and Aaron to fine tune the details."

"Ted and Aaron?" Gabby looked sceptical. "They couldn't fine tune their way out of a paper bag. What they're brilliant at is schmoozing."

Elliot gave her a look, and got up from the sofa, smoothing his charcoal grey suit. "If by 'schmoozing', you mean 'making our distinguished guests feel welcome, and presenting the Studios to their best possible advantage', then yes, I guess you're right." He took her hands, pulled her to her feet, and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I don't want to fight about this."

"Me either."

"OK then." He kissed her again and started walking with her towards the door. "Can I take you to dinner before the party?"

"Sure."

"I'll pick you up at seven?"

"OK."

"Hey," He stopped and took both her hands in his. "We're OK, right?"

Gabriella sighed. "Yes, Elliot, we're fine. I'll see you tomorrow."


	5. Flor

**Flor**

It was just after seven when Gabriella turned down a side street in Albuquerque's Old Town, went through an archway and across a tiny courtyard to Flor, one of the best restaurants in the city. It was owned by Cristo Flores, who, after turning heads and setting mouths watering with his cooking at The Hyatt Regency Tamaya, had made the decision to open his own place with his wife. Both Cris and Estella were old school friends of Gabriella's, and she and her friends had been regular guests and supporters since their opening night.

"Gabriella!" Estella caught sight of her as she entered and made her way through the bustle near the bar to greet her friend. "It's so lovely to see you, honey, how are you doing?"

"Fine thanks, Stel, how about you? How's my lovely goddaughter?"

"We're all good thanks, and Tia's doing really well. Hopefully asleep right now, though. My sister's in town for Thanksgiving, so I thought I'd make use of unpaid babysitting labour and give Cris a hand tonight." She took Gabby's coat and handed it to one of the waitresses to hang up. "Can I get you a drink? Kelsi's already here at your usual table."

"What's she drinking?"

"Gin and tonic, I think."

"I'll have the same, thanks, except…"

"Except lime rather than lemon and more ice?"

Gabriella smiled. "You know me so well."

She caught Kelsi's eye and waved as she made her way over to the large corner table, but was stopped by the sudden shout of "Montez!" that came from the hatch to the kitchen. She turned to see Cris leaning over the counter looking tired and a little dishevelled but otherwise spotless in his white jacket.

"Good to see you, Montez," he said, leaning further over to give her a kiss on the cheek, "I don't know what we'd do without you celebrities frequenting our joint."

"Yes, I can see you're clearly struggling to make ends meet." Gabby laughed, looking round the packed restaurant. "Although, you know, I have a theory that your success might have less to do with us local television presenters and maybe more to do with, I don't know, the food?"

Cris grinned. "Ah, you say the nicest things, Montez."

"Nope," Gabby shook her head, "I'm just giving you your dues. It's not everyone that can make Zeke Baylor cry with a Cherimoya Chiffon Pie."

"He did not." Cris' eyes widened.

Gabby nodded. "I was there. There were definite tears in his eyes. And it's going to be a while before he's allowed to forget it, I can tell you."

Cris laughed. "He didn't mention it in his review."

"No, I think he felt he'd been sufficiently glowing about our meal without compromising his manliness."

"Fair enough." Cris turned as his name was called in the kitchen. "Gotta go, Gabs. I'll send some olives and peppers out your way while you and Kels wait for the others."

"Thanks Cris, see you later."

"What was that about?" Kelsi got up from the table to greet Gabriella as she finally arrived.

Gabby looked guilty. "He hadn't heard about Zeke and the Cherimoya Chiffon Pie Incident."

Kelsi laughed. "Oh you are going to be in _trouble_ when he finds out!"

"When who finds out what?" Sharpay appeared at Gabriella's side.

"Cris didn't know about Zeke's reaction to his pie."

Sharpay laughed. "He didn't? I thought I'd told everyone! Hey Kels, long time, no see! No Jason tonight?"

Kelsi shook his head. "He had a whole bunch of papers to mark. He said he'd meet us later at The Lounge though. What about Zeke? Is he coming later?"

Sharpay nodded. "Should be. He's been pretty busy this week, but now I'm wondering how much the Chiffon Pie had to do with him skipping dinner with his lovely wife and his lovely friends…ooh, Cris' peppers…" she broke off as a waiter brought them a plate of sliced ibérico ham, marinated olives, stuffed peppers and manchego cheese. Taylor arrived minutes later, followed by Estella with a tray of drinks.

"Wine for you Taylor, G and T for Gabs, and cranberry juice for Sharpay." She said as she put the drinks down in front of their owners.

Sharpay pulled a face. "Meh, this pregnancy thing sucks."

Estella laughed. "Had any cravings yet?"

"I woke up this morning feeling sick, and the only thing that made me feel better was peanut butter on a stick of celery. Does that count?"

"I'd say so. When I was pregnant with Tia, I had this weird thing for Marmite, that yeast extract spread that Cris' cousin bought over from the UK. I can't say anyone else shared my enthusiasm for it, although Tia seems to like it now…anyway, must get on, I'll come by in a bit for your orders."

* * *

"So Gabs, is Elliot going to be joining us later?" Taylor turned to Gabby as the first courses were being served.

"No, afraid not, it's the Studio cocktail party tomorrow and he's fine-tuning details tonight."

"You know Gabs," Sharpay waved her spoon at her friend. "Pretty soon we're going to have face the question of whether or not Elliot actually exists."

Kelsi laughed and nodded. "That's right, honey, we're getting concerned that maybe you've made him up."

"Mmm, yes, that does sound like something I'd do…" Gabriella suppressed a smile and speared a forkful of chargrilled vegetables. "I can see why you'd be worried."

"Guys, you're forgetting that picture of them in the paper. The one at that benefit that Carrie Underwood played at."

"Oh you're right, Taylor, I'd forgotten that. That's right, he was really cute…" Sharpay gazed off into the distance, a dreamy smile on her face that left her face as Gabby elbowed her in the ribs. "Hey! No poking the pregnant lady!"

"Seriously though Gabby," Kelsi put down her fork, "are we ever going to meet this guy?"

Gabriella sighed. "I'd love you to meet him. It's just…I don't know…he's always so busy, and when he's free it seems like you guys have other things on. I was bugging him about it this morning actually, maybe we can sort something out for after Thanksgiving."

"That sounds good. It's just that if you leave it too late, we're just going to have to picket outside the Studio, and I'm not sure how that'd go down."

"Yes Taylor, I can just picture Gabs' segment on GMA. 'I'm here outside the TV Studios, where a lawyer, a magazine editor and a kindergarten teacher are marching with signs reading "We Want To Meet Gabby's Boyfriend!" It's 8:02, I'm Gabriella Montez, Good Morning Albuquerque!'" Kelsi laughed as she reached for the bread basket.

Sharpay looked reproachful. "Don't sell our picket short Kels, I'm sure the guys would come too. Plus you know, Ryan's just started dating one of the receptionists at the Studio so I'm sure that'd give us some leverage."

"Oh that's right!" Gabby forgot the subject of her absent boyfriend for a moment. "I'd forgotten that he and Jaime had gotten together. I can't think why I didn't set it up actually, they make such a sweet couple."

"I don't think I've met her yet," said Taylor, "Will she be at The Lounge later?"

"Yes, I think so. She's really sweet, Tay, you're going to love her. But speaking of new couples, how are things with Mr Danforth?"

If her friends hadn't known her better, they would have sworn that for a moment, Taylor McKessie, hard-hitting lawyer, blushed. "Yeah, things are going really well." She buttering a piece of bread so as to not meet her friends' eyes. "I mean, we've been best friends for ages, so it's not as if we've got loads to learn about each other, but it's really great. Feels right, you know?"

Gabriella smiled, and nudged her friend. "That's awesome honey, I'm so happy for you."

* * *

An hour later, after a delicious, lazy dinner and a long chat with Estella, who took advantage of a lull in business to sit down with some of her favourite customers, the girls were ready to go meet the others at The Lounge. Waving away her friends' protests with assurances that it was her turn to pay, Gabriella went to the bar, which gave Sharpay a chance to turn to Kelsi and Taylor and say "So. Elliot seems fairly desperate not to meet us, huh?"

"I know, it's getting a bit obvious really. I do understand that he's a busy guy, but I know for a fact that Gabby has met his friends."

"They went to his best friend's wedding in New York didn't they?" Kelsi took possession of the coats as their waiter brought them from the cloakroom and started handing them out.

Taylor nodded. "Yep, and that was less than a month into the relationship. At the time, I remember thinking 'Gee, that's great, this guy's obviously totally into Gabs', but now I'm wondering if he'd just rather that she didn't come with a friendship group attached."

Kelsi pulled a face. "Gabby wouldn't ditch her friends, surely."

"I know she wouldn't," Sharpay looked worried, "But if that's what he really wants, then I can't see that there's much future in their relationship." She sighed. "I just don't want her getting hurt."


	6. Folksy charm

**Folksy charm**

Elliot drained the last of his espresso macchiato, and signalled to a passing waiter.

"Yes sir?"

"I'd like the bill, please."

"Right away, Mr Hunter."

Gabriella swirled the last mouthful of her coffee in her cup, and took another bite of biscotti. "What time did you want to be arriving at the party?"

Elliot checked his watch. "We need to leave in the next ten minutes or so, really. I haven't had any panicked phone calls, so I think we can safely assume that everything is going smoothly." The waiter arrived with the bill in a small, leather folder. Elliot felt in the inside pocket of his jacket for his wallet, extracted his American Express Platinum card, tucked it in the folder and handed it back to the waiter. "Thank you. Dinner was wonderful."

"Mmm, very nice. Thank you." Gabriella agreed.

"Very nice?" Elliot turned to Gabby as the waiter walked away, an eyebrow raised. "The chef here has cooked for the Queen of England and the Pope! Surely you, with your Masters in English Literature from UCLA can think of something more appropriate than 'very nice'!"

Gabriella laughed. "I don't mean to under-sell the chef at all; the food was terrific. That Ahi tuna was cooked to absolute perfection, but I could have done without all the garnishes and the different dishes of things." She shrugged. "I guess I just like my food a little less…fussy?"

"It's called Haute Cuisine, Gabby, it's not fussy."

"Not fussy. Really?" She picked up the menu. "What was it you had to start? Shaved prosciutto di Parma, candied melon, watercress, arugula salad, goat cheese with toasted pinenuts and nut vinaigrette, wasn't it? And to follow? Wapiti farms venison loin seared rare with roasted cauliflower, yams, and pearl onion compote, served with an apple, cashew and chocolate sauce? And what about dessert?.."

"Fine, fine, you've made your point." Elliot frowned slightly, stood up and smoothed his jacket. The waiter returned at that moment with his card and receipt, and a few minutes later, they were waiting under the canopied entrance to the restaurant while the valet brought the car around.

"I'm sorry if I sounded ungrateful just then." Gabby slipped her hand into his. "It was a lovely meal, and before I called it fussy, I guess I should have thanked you for bringing me." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Elliot."

She shivered in a sudden gust of icy wind, and he slid his arm around her waist. "Cold, darling?"

"Just a bit. Perhaps not an especially appropriate dress for November." She pulled her wrap closer round her and her dress which, though floor length, was made of thin, chocolate brown silk.

"Well, in defence of the dress, might I just say that it's quite, quite appropriate as far as I'm concerned." He pulled her closer and kissed her gently. "Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?"

She smiled and kissed him back. "You may have. Once or twice."

Elliot's silver Mercedes arrived at that moment, and in no time at all they were speeding through the streets of Albuquerque to the Studio cocktail party.

* * *

The party was being held in the luxurious penthouse apartment belonging to the owner of the Studios, which took up the top two floors of one of the tallest buildings in Albuquerque, affording fabulous views of the city. Pulling up outside, Elliot handed his car keys over to the valets employed especially for the evening, and together, he and Gabriella rode the private elevator up to the nineteenth floor. The elevator doors opened onto a small lobby, where they left their coats with one of the waitresses, and passed through some double doors into an entrance hall that looked, to Gabby, stunningly like the one belonging to Captain von Trapp in _The Sound of Music_. The room was open to the full two floors of the penthouse, with a spectacular staircase that started on both sides of the galleried upper floor and met in the middle, sweeping down into the centre of the room. Through an archway to their left, a piano could be heard playing softly, and a number of extremely professional-looking wait staff were circulating amongst the guests who had already arrived, supplying them with drinks.

They were welcomed at the foot of the stairs by Aaron Blum, Elliot's right-hand man and, in Gabriella's opinion, Class A Schmoozer. After assuring Elliot that everything was going swimmingly, he turned to Gabby and, taking her hand, kissed it.

"Gabriella," He signalled to a girl who was passing through with a tray of drinks, and gave both her and Elliot a glass of champagne, "you are looking radiant, as always. Great show yesterday, by the way. Lots of segments to fit in, I'm sure Breckin had a nightmare fitting it all in. Plus," he shuddered, "all those children to deal with as well."

Gabriella accepted her champagne and took a sip. "Thanks Aaron. It was pretty hectic, but I think that it makes for a sparkier show. And the kids were terrific, actually, I had a real blast."

"Mmmm…" Aaron looked unconvinced. Then, as he caught a glimpse of someone waving from the entrance lobby, he turned to Elliot. "I think the first of our special guests have arrived. Gabriella, do you mind if I borrow him for a few minutes?"

"Not at all." She shook her head and kissed Elliot on the cheek, "You go schm…I mean welcome our guests, honey, I'll go see if anyone I know is here yet."

Following the sound of the grand piano, she entered a room that ran the length of the building, with floor to ceiling windows. There were already quite a large number of people at the party, but she spotted Jaime at the far end of the room, talking with Sam and her husband Mike, and a guy who was standing with his back to her. As she approached, they all turned and she saw who it was.

"Ryan! I didn't know you were coming tonight!"

"Well technically, he's not here." Mike said with a grin.

Gabby looked confused. "Er…here but not here?"

"Well technically, he's not on the guest list because the invitations were sent out before Jaime started dating him…"

"Yeah, and _you_ didn't invite me." Ryan poked her in the back.

"…But seeing as how Sam and I were in charge of the guest lists, and seeing as how Ry's very polite and won't cause any trouble, we thought we'd sneak him in." Jaime finished, leaning against her new boyfriend and looking up at him with a smile.

"Well you're lucky that it was J and Sam with the guest lists," Gabriella took another sip of champagne, "Because you'd need to be a member of the British aristocracy or own a fleet of airplanes or at the very least have an Oscar nomination to impress Ted and Aaron."

Jaime looked sympathetic. "Elliot been spirited away to schmooze?"

"Yep. 'I'll only be a few minutes' has never yet equated to anything less than half an hour at one of these parties, so I guess I'm on my own for the time being. Although," she looked about her in admiration. "I have to say that this place has fully exceeded my expectations."

"It's pretty cool, right?" Sam smiled.

"It's more than cool, I'm anticipating the arrival of the von Trapp children down that staircase at any minute!"

* * *

An hour later, with the party in full swing and with still no sign of Elliot, Gabby accepted another glass, this time of red wine, and headed upstairs to explore. The apartment really was stunning. An archway on the right-hand side of the gallery led to several suites of bedrooms and bathrooms, while the corresponding arch on the left led to a room very similar to the one below it, only this one had a wide balcony running the length of the room. People obviously doing the same as her were wandering round the room with their drinks, admiring the pieces of art and fabulous floral arrangements that looked like they had come straight from the pages of _House & Garden_. It must either be, she decided, that Ted and Aaron had supervised a massive removal of every 'homey touch' in the place, or that the apartment was barely lived in. That had to be it, maybe the Studio owner spent most of his time in New York, or his Malibu beach house.

"Because who could live in a place like this?" she muttered to herself, going over to the window. "It'd be like living in a museum. Who could…oh wow…" she broke off as she saw the city spread out below her. It was only one floor higher than the room she'd just spent an hour in, but somehow, it was more impressive, more beautiful. Finding the door to the balcony open, she went out to discover it surprisingly sheltered from the chilly wind, and she leant on the railing and looked at the city that she had called home for her entire life.

"I take it back," she said to no-one in particular, "I could live in just about any kind of house for a view like this."

"You're not wrong." A deep voice behind her made her jump, and she spun round to find herself looking into a pair of the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

"I'm sorry," he placed a hand on her arm, "I didn't mean to startle you. It's just that I was thinking exactly the same thing." He leant on the railing next to her. "This view really is something."

He was tall, with dark brown hair that fell across his forehead and almost into his eyes, and was looking at her was a slightly crooked, quizzical smile. He was dressed in an immaculate suit that Sharpay would have no doubt identified as Prada or Armani; all Gabby knew was that it was very dark grey, it had obviously been made-to-measure, and he was wearing it with a crisp white shirt, and a blue silk tie that almost matched his eyes. Finding his gaze a little off-putting, Gabriella turned back to the view.

"It really is beautiful. I've lived here practically my whole life, but I don't think I've ever seen it from this high up."

"Well I'm new in town, but I can't think of a better way to be introduced to the sights of Albuquerque. So, what brings you to this glitzy do?"

"I work for one of the local TV programmes called Good Morning Albuquerque. If you're new in town I guess you won't have heard of it." She took another sip of her wine to escape once more from his piercing gaze, which made her feel strangely weak at the knees.

"You wouldn't be Gabriella Montez would you?" He asked, his quizzical smile intensifying. Gabriella smiled back. She would have been hard-pressed to do anything else in the circumstances.

"That's right."

He took her hand again. "Well it's a pleasure to finally meet the famous Gabriella Montez."

Gabby looked confused. "Finally? What do you m…" She was interrupted by the arrival of Jaime, who was looking slightly harassed.

"Oh Gabs, great, glad to have found you. Elliot's looking for you. The Governor of New Mexico has just arrived and…"

"Say no more, J," Gabby patted her on the arm, "I'll go make nice." She turned to her balcony companion, who was looking more than a little amused. "It was really nice to meet you Mr…ah…"

"Bolton, Troy Bolton."

"Who _was_ that guy?" Jaime waited until they were half way down the stairs before interrogating her.

"No idea. Someone from another studio maybe? A friend of Ted or Aaron's? Who knows?"

"He was pretty…" Jaime looked back over her shoulder, half afraid that he was following them down the stairs.

Gabriella smiled. "He was quite, wasn't he?"

She went and found Elliot standing near the grand piano, talking to a distinguished-looking elderly gentleman in a dark blue suit, who smiled broadly as she approached, and took her hand.

"Ms Montez, it's wonderful to see you again."

Gabby waved the formal title away with a sweep of her hand. "It's wonderful to see you again, Governor, but please call me Gabriella."

He laughed. "Fine. But only if you'll call me Richard."

Elliot turned to Gabby and placed a hand on her arm. "Darling, I was just telling the Governor how ratings for GMA have gone up hugely in the past year."

The Governor smiled. "You must be very proud."

Gabriella nodded. "Thank you, I am. It's such a privilege to be able to work for the community that I grew up in, I feel truly blessed with this job."

At that moment, Aaron appeared again. "I do apologise for the interruption, but there are a number of people anxious to meet the Governor."

"Of course." The Governor shook Elliot's hand. "Elliot, thank you for inviting me to such a lovely evening, and Gabriella," he took her hand, "It is, as always, a pleasure."

"Been busy?" Gabby slid her arm round her boyfriend's waist, and they made their way to the window.

"Yes, lots of things I suddenly needed to see to." He put an arm round her shoulders. "Sorry I left you for so long."

"That's all right, I know you're pretty busy at these parties. Elliot, look, isn't this view stunning?"

"Mmm, very nice."

"Very nice?" She laughed. "Surely you, with your MBA from Harvard Business School, can think of something more appropriate than 'very nice'?"

"How about 'breathtaking'?" A familiar voice came from next to Elliot, and they turned to see Troy Bolton.

"Oh, um, nice to see you again. Elliot, this is, I'm sorry, I don't remember your name…"

"Troy, good to see you again," Elliot shook his hand and looked between Gabby and Troy. "You've already met?"

Troy smiled. "Gabriella was so kind as to show me the breathtaking view from the upstairs balcony."

"I see. Well, good, I'm glad you've met," Elliot turned to Gabby, "Honey, I want you to meet the guy who's come all the way from New York to present GMA with you."

The words echoed in Gabriella's ears and made no sense. She shook her head and laughed. "I'm sorry Elliot, I must be having some kind of break-down, I thought you said he was co-hosting GMA with me."

"Troy Bolton, Miss Montez, good to meet you. I watched your show this morning. You have a real folksy charm."

Gabby stared at his outstretched hand before looking up at his face, and then to her boyfriend's.

"Elliot? Is this some kind of joke?

Elliot appeared uncomfortable. Clearly, he had not expected his news to have this reception. "Well, no, it's not a joke."

"So I now have a co-host. What, am I suddenly incapable of carrying GMA on my own? You think that the more people who watch the show, the less they'll like me? The more they'll want a reassuring male presence in case the woman in charge goes all twittery over a baby or a basket of puppies?"

"No, of course not." Elliot frowned, and glanced at Troy, who was doing his best not to laugh. "You've done a wonderful job on GMA, but the ratings have shot up and the management felt that it would be good to expand the show, make it longer, give it a wider appeal."

Gabby shook her head, too furious to articulate a sophisticated argument. Finally, failing even to articulate an unsophisticated argument, she tipped her glass of red wine down her boyfriend's shirt. "Oh Elliot, I appear to have spilt a little wine on your new suit. I do apologise." She turned to Troy. "Did I accidentally get any on you, Mr Bolton? I'm just too, too thrilled to finally have someone to show me how to present local TV, I've only been doing it for four years." With that, she put down her glass on a glass occasional table, and walked away.

There was silence for a moment, and the two men looked at each other. Then, with a muttered apology, Elliot set off in pursuit of his girlfriend and left his newest employee, dripping red wine onto the polished wood floor. A passing waiter looked horrified, and hurried off in search of a cloth, and a number of guests came up to offer their assistance.

"What happened?"

"Good grief, this'll stain if you don't get it in to soak."

"Are you all right, sir?"

Troy didn't bat an eyelid. Looking off in the direction that Gabby had made her exit, he loosened his ruined tie and smiled. "I like her."


	7. Brunch and Sympathy

**Brunch and Sympathy**

"He said WHAT?"

"'Folksy charm'? Are you KIDDING me?"

A sudden hush fell on the Marquez Street Bakery. People paused in the middle of their Sunday morning brunch, peering past their families or over their copies of the _Albuquerque Journal_ at the group of women sitting on the sofas by the window. Sharpay, glancing over at the interested faces, swung her Ugg-clad feet down from the footstool that the rest of the girls had forced to use and leaned forward towards Gabby.

"What did you do?" she asked, this time more quietly.

Gabby closed her eyes for a second as if trying to forget. "I think I may have overreacted slightly."

The girls exchanged glances. "I seriously doubt that, Gabs," said Kelsi, stirring her cappuccino.

Taylor nodded. "Why don't you tell us and we'll decide?"

Gabby reached for another croissant. "I yelled mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Yes, mostly I yelled. When I wasn't throwing my glass of wine over Elliot...ew! Taylor!"

"Sorry." Taylor reached for a handful of napkins to mop up the latte she had spit out at her friend. "I just wasn't expecting that."

"Neither was I! I can't believe you got there before me!" Sharpay laughed. "I've always hoped that maybe one day Zeke and I will get into a fight in a restaurant. What was it like? Ooh, was it red or white wine?"

"And I don't suppose Mr Folksy Charm got any on him, did he?" asked Kelsi hopefully.

Gabby smiled a little, despite herself, and counted off their questions on her fingers. "It was red wine, I think he did get some down his tie, it felt brilliant at the time, but I'm feeling pretty guilty this morning."

"But angry too, right?" Sharpay put down her peppermint tea and turned to her friend. "Gabs, I don't want to go over and over this, but Elliot knew that this guy was coming to present GMA with you, right?"

"Right."

"And he told you like it was supposed to be some brilliant surprise, like you were going to hop about clapping your hands. What did he expect? I'm sorry honey, you can feel a little guilty at embarrassing him at his party, and I guess you could even offer to foot the dry cleaning bill, but I really hope you're not going to just let this go."

Gabby shrugged miserably. "What can I do? It's official, this guy is joining me as co-anchor in a couple of weeks. Short of quitting, what can I do? I can't leave, Shar, I love this job. I'd rather have GMA with a slimy co-anchor than not have it at all."

Kelsi glanced at Sharpay. "I don't think she was just talking about the job, Gabs."

"Then what…oh." A shadow passed across Gabby's face as she realised. "Elliot." She reached for her cappuccino, and sat back in the sofa, looking smaller and more miserable than her friends had ever seen her.

The girls exchanged looks again. They didn't want their friend to be unhappy, but neither did they especially want to persuade her to break it off with a guy that none of them had even met. Kelsi opened her mouth to say something comforting, when Gabby interrupted her, shaking her head a little in confusion.

"I think he really thought I'd be pleased with the news last night."

Sharpay nodded sympathetically. "I'm sure he did hon, I don't think he'd ever deliberately hurt you. We might not have met, but if he's half the man you've told us about, then he really did think you'd be excited that GMA was expanding."

"But…we…" Gabby sighed and stared into the foam on her cappuccino. "We've been dating for six months and he doesn't know me at all, does he?" She looked up. "Do you know how many times last night he told me I looked beautiful?"

"In that brown silk dress we bought with you? I'm not surprised, Gabs, it makes you look like a movie star."

Gabby laughed, and patted Taylor on the arm. "Thanks Tay, I appreciate it. It's just that I realised last night that the only times Elliot only tells me I look beautiful are when I'm wearing an evening dress. It's not as if he ever tells me to smarten up for the rest of the time, it's just hard not to read the unsaid criticism there when he makes a huge fuss of me when I…or rather you guys have spent hours on my hair and makeup, and sort of skirts the issue when I'm being Normal Me in jeans and a jacket."

"That doesn't mean he doesn't think you look beautiful other times, you know Gabs," said Kelsi, "Guys are just sometimes not very good at noticing things."

"Yeah, sometimes I wonder if Zeke would notice I was pregnant if it weren't for the fact that I've been throwing up every morning at precisely the time when he normally takes a shower…" Sharpay poured herself another cup of peppermint tea, dodging the cushion Kelsi threw her way.

Gabriella laughed. "I'm not sure who you married Shar, but the Zeke Baylor I know has half of the restaurants in Albuquerque amending their menus to accommodate the exact balance of nutrients that a pregnant woman needs, and has been researching baby food since the day after you guys found out you were expecting. If that's him not noticing, then I'd like to see him being attentive!" She sighed and shook her head. "It's not just the dress thing with Elliot. I think he really does love me, but I'm beginning to wonder whether he's more in love with the person he thinks I am than the person I actually am. I don't know, it's just kind of as if he's trying to turn me into someone else. Someone I'm not. I told him for weeks how much I loved the ballet, and for my birthday, he took me to the opera because he couldn't believe I'd never been. I've told him so may times about Cris and Stel's food at Flor, and last night, he took me to this restaurant with a celebrity chef and the most complicated menu I've ever seen. And last night…" She sighed again. "How could he possibly think that being blind-sided like that would make me happy? Especially when it's to do with GMA."

There was silence for a minute. Then Kelsi slid along the sofa to where Gabby was sitting, and gave her a hug. "It's hard, sweetie, I know that. I'm not sure any of us can offer more help than we already have, just know that we're here for you whatever you decide to do."

"Yep, ranting phone calls at two in the morning, more trips to Flor, whatever you need honey, we're all here." Sharpay leant forward and squeezed Gabby's hand.

Taylor nodded. "And who knows? Maybe Mr Folksy Charm won't turn out to be as bad as his first impression. What's his actual name, by the way?"

"I can't remember. Something like Trent…or Trey?" Gabriella shrugged and suddenly had a vivid flash back from the night before. She'd been remembering parts of the evening ever since she woke up that morning, but they had all featured Elliot. Elliot's face as he told her the news. Elliot with wine dripping down his shirt. Elliot catching up with her in the foyer of the building, telling her that GMA's expansion was a huge opportunity for her. Now, suddenly, the person she could see was Mr Folksy Charm. His hand on her arm as they stood looking out over Albuquerque. His crooked smile. His eyes, almost the same shade of blue as his tie. And suddenly, she remembered his name.

"Troy," she said, "Troy Bolton."


	8. Goodbye 'til Monday

**Goodbye 'til Monday**

"And we're back in five, four, three…"

The producer counted down and gave the cue signalling the return from one of GMA's news and weather segments filmed at the studios. Gabby glanced at her notes and then smiled up at the camera. "Thanks guys, and especially thanks to you Cliff. I was absolutely counting on you to predict some awesome weather for us this weekend!"

Cliff, GMA's weekday weather man laughed in her earpiece. "Always glad to be of service, Gabby."

"You should know, Gabby," Becca the newsreader chimed in, "that I with every lady here at the studio am seriously envious of your location this morning."

Gabby grinned into the camera. "Bec, I can't think what you could possibly mean. Except, oh, you mean these guys?" she said, turning round, where the Isotopes, Albuquerque's baseball team were going through a warm-up. "Yeah, did I ever mention how much I love my job?"

Cliff cleared his throat. "That last game against the Oklahoma Redhawks sure was something. What a way to end the season!"

Gabby laughed. "Cliff, I thank you for raising the tone once again."

"Yeah," Becca sounded less thankful. "Thanks. Now, Ms Montez, before we hand back to you, tell us about what's happening on Monday."

Gabby took a deep breath. She and Jon had worked this part of the show out with Becca earlier that morning, but although they had all been agreed that it seemed to be the best way of putting an end to the rumours that had begun the night of the cocktail party, she had not been looking forward to it.

"Well Bec, as you're probably aware, there has been a bit of speculation recently that the GMA format is going to change. I'm told that there's also been a rumour going round that I'm to be replaced by Britney Spears. Neither of these things are true. Britney is certainly not having my job, and the format isn't going to change, but next week, we will be welcoming a new member to the GMA team." She paused. Jon looked up sharply from his monitor, clearly concerned that she was about to go off-script. Gabby smiled at him reassuringly, glanced at a visible screen to see that a picture of her new co-presenter was being shown, and continued. "From Monday, I will be presenting this show with this guy. His name is Troy Bolton, he's from New York, and he's a reporter for WNBC. We'll be having a special show on Monday to welcome him to the family, so I'd tune in then, guys, you're not going to want to miss it."

Becca laughed. "Thanks Gabby, we sure will. Over to you."

"Thanks Becca." Gabby checked her notes once more and smiled. "Well, that's pretty much all we have time for today. Thanks to everyone involved in today's show, especially," she turned round and waved to the baseball players behind her to come join her, "the Albuquerque Isotopes for allowing us to be a part of their end of season celebrations." She waited until the team had joined her in the bleachers, before turning to the crane camera. "From everyone here at Isotopes Park, it's goodbye 'til Monday."

As the camera pulled out, leaving everyone waving, Ty Hassett, one of the Isotopes newest recruits turned to Gabby. "You must be pretty excited, Ms Montez. When it's stealing reporters from WNBC, GMA must really be going someplace."

Gabby opened her mouth to say something about it being a very exciting development for the show, when another player chipped in with a smile. "Kinda sad though. It's the end of era, right, Ms Montez?"

He didn't notice Gabby's frozen expression; he had only meant it as a joke. The next second, he had gone back to waving like a maniac as the camera pulled further and further out as GMA's credits rolled.

* * *

An hour later, Gabby stepped onto the elevator at the TV Studio, pressed the button and, relieved to find herself alone, leant on the mirrored wall with a sigh. It had been a long morning, longer than most. A location like Isotopes Park, though excellent for ratings and perfect as a setting for GMA, required much more work than most outside broadcasts. There seemed to be many more procedures to follow, more people around to consult with on these procedures, more boxes to tick. She wiggled her toes in her boots, longing for her office, or more precisely the tiny sofa in her office. She'd dump her stuff, go make herself a cup of coffee, then clear all the piles of paper off her sofa and put her feet up for a little while. She sighed. Most weekdays after the show came with tired legs, sleepy eyes and sore feet but this headache…Gabby closed her eyes and tried to massage the pain away from her temples…the headache was new. Maybe she was going down with something. She cast back in her mind for all the places she might have been given a cold, and quickly concluded that it might have been at any point on any given day in her working week. Or weekend, really, she thought, remembering the previous weekend she had spent at the local riding stables assisting with their open day. She coughed experimentally, and discovered that in addition to a headache, she now had a scratchy throat to add to her symptoms. Great. A cold. Just what she needed. She closed her eyes again and tried to imagine how a cold would play on Monday when she was trying to be capable and fabulous and stick it to stupid smug Troy Bolton and his stupid smug face. Not well, she concluded, visions of her last cold flashing before her eyes. These featured her in bed watching repeats of _Sunset Beach_ amid a sea of tissues, Sharpay thinking she was a crank caller because of her lack of voice ("Not _husky_, honey, _croaky_. It really wasn't attractive enough to be called husky"), and an inability to eat anything except Zeke's chicken soup. Yep, Gabby groaned quietly as the light above the door came on with a _bing_, she was going to look super-cool come Monday if she'd been dumb enough to let some germ-infested kid breath on her. She would just have to dose up on vitamin C and hope for the best.

"Honey?"

Gabby glanced up and realised that the doors were now fully open and Sam and Jaime were staring at her from their respective desks. She lunged for the doors as they began to close again, and made a somewhat undignified lurch into the lobby. The receptionists exchanged glances.

"Erm, Gabs, are you…OK?" Jaime looked concerned.

Gabby smiled weakly at her friend. "Thanks, J, I'm fine. It's been a long morning, that's all."

"Like me to go grab you a coffee, hon?" Sam, who had been present for many an after-show Friday, got up from her chair. Gabby perched on the edge of the desk, and placed her bags on the floor.

"Actually, what I'd really kill for is an aspirin. I started a headache some point this morning and I'm not sure it's going any place unless I do something about it."

"Sure, gimme a sec…" Sam, mother of twin six year-old boys, rummaged through the voluminous leather handbag which had earned her the affectionate title of 'Mary Poppins' around the office for the ability to produce precisely what anyone needed. People, in various stages of desperation had approached Sam and her bag and had been rewarded with paperclips, safety pins, hairbands, marker pens, blank CDs, a flash light and even, one particularly impressive occasion, a set of working Christmas tree lights. "…Aha! Knew they were here somewhere. Now. Regular or Extra Strength?"

Gabby accepted two Extra Strengths gratefully and went to find a glass of water. Pills taken, she made herself a mug of hot water and lemon and took it back to her office, where she discovered the sofa under her 'Open Plan Filing System' and sat back with a sigh.

She had barely closed her eyes, when there was a loud knock on the door. Hearing only the invitation to enter and not the muttering about blunt objects, Elliot opened the door and stepped over the piles of paper to where his girlfriend lay with her boots kicked off, her legs draped over the arm of the extremely small sofa, and a cushion over her face.

"Darling, is everything all right?"

Gabby removed the cushion and sat up. "Oh. Hi. Yes, thanks, everything's fine. Had a rough morning." She brought her knees up to her chest and gestured the small space she had just vacated on the sofa. "Sit?"

"Erm…" Elliot's reluctance was obvious. So, to Gabriella, was the cause. She gestured to the chair by the door. "You could hang your jacket over that. Then it won't crumple."

"Ah. Right. Thanks." With his jacket a safe distance from the sofa, Elliot sat down and turned to Gabby. "So. A rough morning, you said? Anything go wrong at the stadium?"

Gabby looked at her boyfriend, and then looked at the cushion she held in her lap as if trying to work something out. Then she looked up. "I'm not coming down with a cold."

Elliot looked confused. "What? A cold? I never said…"

Gabby shook her head. "I can't believe it took me this long to figure it out. I don't have a cold, this headache is nothing to do with a _cold_, this headache is to do with that Bolton guy! This is to do with the fact that my headache started the moment that I realised that this was the last show I'd do without Troy 'Folksy Charm' Bolton standing beside me in his Armani suit with his perfect teeth and that stupid smug smile."

"'Folksy Charm'?" Elliot sighed. "Gabby, I thought we might have got past that."

"Past it?" Gabby sat up straighter, watching almost with fascination as the fragile peace that had existed between them all week crumbled away. "Elliot, you can't really…except…you _do_, don't you? You really do expect me to have taken your news from the cocktail party and shrugged it off as if it wasn't my career you and your buddies in the boardroom were messing with."

"You know the decision wasn't mine, Gabby, I've told you that a hundred times. Ultimately, the decision came from higher up than me, and there was…"

"…Nothing you could do about it. I know, Elliot, you told me." Gabby sighed.

"All I can do is look out for the best interests of the show and the people who work on it, that's my job. That's what I'm supposed to do." Elliot shrugged. "I can't see how I could have done any different. This expansion is great for the studio, it's great for the show, it's great for everyone at the studio, you included."

Gabby sighed. "I can see how you'd think it's going to be great for my career, Elliot and you're probably right. I expect that in the long run, this expansion will signal good things for me, but right now, right here, it's not great for my career. I've done this job on my own for almost three years now and I love it. It's the best job I've ever had, and it's the job I had hoped I could keep for the foreseeable future. Now, with practically zero notice, I'm supposed to change the way I do everything and make room for a co-presenter who clearly thinks I'm some kind of small town yokel." She took what she hoped was a calming breath and continued. "You must have known before the night of the party that it was happening, but you still dropped it on me like you were announcing my birthday surprise. I hate surprises. You say you were looking out for my best interests, but if you really knew me at all, you'd have realised that I would have appreciated being kept in the loop on decisions that were going to affect my career. If you took the time to actually get to know me, then things might be different, but unfortunately, I know you well enough to know that that's never going to happen, and that's a problem for me." She stood up and took her mug to the window, where she took a sip before turning round. "I'm sorry Elliot, I don't think I can do this any more."


	9. Better Late Than Never

**Better Late Than Never**

**From:** Zeke Baylor

**To:** Sharpay Baylor; Chad Danforth; Taylor McKessie; Gabriella Montez; Kelsi Cross; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans

**Subject:** A reminder

Guys, this is just a reminder that our Better Late Than Never Thanksgiving Celebration will be taking place at our place from brunch-time onwards on Saturday (aka tomorrow). I think I got a yes out of all you when I sent my last round of slightly threatening emails, but let me know if you intend to weasel out; I am planning the menu(s). Oh, Ryan, I tried to email Jaime about it but I think I must have the wrong address for her. Would you pass along the invitation?

And Danforth, brunch means mid-morning. Stopping in at ours at 8:30 on the way home from your morning run and then using our shower and leaving your wet socks over the towel rail DOES NOT COUNT.

Laters,

Z

* * *

**From:** Kelsi Cross

**To:** Zeke Baylor; Sharpay Baylor; Chad Danforth; Taylor McKessie; Gabriella Montez; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans

**Subject: **re: A reminder

Zeke,

Jase and I will be there. Is 11:00 OK with you?

Thanks so much for organizing this, we really missed you guys over Thanksgiving. Not that it wasn't great to see Jase's family, but no-one cooks turkey like you…

Can I bring anything?

Kels x

* * *

**From:** Sharpay Baylor

**To:** Chad Danforth; Taylor McKessie; Gabriella Montez; Kelsi Cross; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans; Zeke Baylor

**Subject:** re: A reminder

Honey, you know you don't technically need to invite me to Thanksgiving dinner when we live in the same house and I'll probably have spent tonight hollowing out pumpkins or whatever…except the thought of pumpkin is making me want to vom right now so maybe not….anyway, it'll be cool to see you all (if you can all make it), what with baby stuff and Gabby's battle with Mr Folksy Charm (to name but a few), it's be a while since we properly caught up.

If the weather's fine, I was thinking maybe we could go up into the hills for a walk if your regime of cooking will allow, Zeke. It might be nice to walk off brunch before dinner is all I'm saying. And if it rains, we can just stay in and I will whip all your asses at Monopoly. I am always the little dog. Just in case any of you had forgotten.

Gah, got to run, the girls from layout are pacing and the print deadline is LOOMING,

See you all tomorrow, unless you're my husband, in which case I will see you later,

Shar xxx

PS: Zeke, we are out of Lucky Charms.

* * *

**From:** Zeke Baylor

**To:** Sharpay Baylor; Chad Danforth; Taylor McKessie; Gabriella Montez; Kelsi Cross; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans

**Subject:** LUCKY CHARMS?

Lucky Charms? LUCKY CHARMS? What happened to the granola I made you? I researched that granola, Shar, I spoke to experts, I made graphs, I held taste testings. Nutrients, Sharpay, nutrients. These are things you need. These are things the baby needs. The baby does not need coloured marshmallows and frosted oats, I'll tell you that for free. Z x

* * *

**From:** Sharpay Baylor

**To:** Chad Danforth; Taylor McKessie; Gabriella Montez; Kelsi Cross; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans; Zeke Baylor

**Subject:** re: LUCKY CHARMS?

The baby may not need coloured marshmallows and frosted oats, Zeke, but I do. I appreciate the granola, really, I do. It's actually very tasty. I like that you remembered how I hate dried banana. But first thing in the morning, when I've just finished VOMITING while you're merrily singing _Sweet Child Of Mine_ in the shower, Lucky Charms are the only thing I can eat that doesn't make me want to hurl again. So it's that or nothing, big guy, and I know your thoughts on skipping meals. Oh, and you did not make graphs or hold taste testings. Did you?

Love you, what's for dinner tonight?

S x

* * *

**From:** Chad Danforth

**To:** Sharpay Baylor; Taylor McKessie; Gabriella Montez; Kelsi Cross; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans; Zeke Baylor

**Subject:** They're always after me homemade granola!

You know, you guys should feel really free to have this fight about breakfast cereal in emails to all of us because as you know, the case I'm working on right now leaves me ample free time to check my inbox every five minutes for the next update on the Lucky Charm/Granola debate.

In reply to your question Zeke, yes, I will be coming tomorrow, although I'm afraid I will need to keep my beeper on me because my underlings in the office are pulling an all-weekender and I don't want to leave them fully stranded should something happen.

I'll see you guys tomorrow. 8:00 OK with you? Don't worry Shar, I'll bring my own towel…

Heh heh

Chad

* * *

**From:** Gabriella Montez

**To:** Chad Danforth; Sharpay Baylor; Taylor McKessie; Kelsi Cross; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans; Zeke Baylor

**Subject:** re: re: LUCKY CHARMS?

Um, actually Shar, he did hold taste testings. Kels and Taylor and I ate about nine different versions before he hit upon the current formula. I realize Lucky Charms are stopping you from feeling gross in the morning, but when little Baylor arrives, I do recommend it, I am getting withdrawal symptoms.

Thanks for organizing this, Baylors, I'm really looking forward to it. Thanksgiving was not a very thankful time for me this year, but I'm hoping for the best. Maybe Mr Folksy Charm will toe the line and fit in and be a brilliant co-anchor and help make GMA twice the show it is today. And maybe Britney really will take my job and lead a dancercise segment at 8:30 every morning in a gold version of the catsuit she wore in the video for _Oops!...I Did It Again_.

Also, I'm not sure this is the best place to say this because it'll sound like I'm wanting sympathy and actually, I'm weirdly not, but I think I just broke up with Elliot. Or rather, I just told Elliot that we were over, so I'm fairly certain that I broke up with him. I know none of you are going to mourn the loss of the guy who never met you and, now that I think of it, kind of avoided you all like the plague, but I wanted to let you know that I'm fine. But that it would be really great if you'd make me chocolate chip pancakes tomorrow, Zeke. Ooh, and granola.

Love to you all, Gabby xx

* * *

**From:** Taylor McKessie

**To:** Gabriella Montez

**Subject:** Oh honey

I'm really sorry Gabs, I really, really am. Not that I don't think that you made the right decision; he did rather avoid meeting us, and he doesn't seem to really have spent much time getting to know you in the whole time you were dating, but I'm still sorry. Are you really OK? Do you want me to come over tonight? Chad's got plans with an old friend from University, and I was going to watch _When Harry Met Sally_ and order in, but both those things can be moved to your place…

Let me know. Talk to you later, T xxx

* * *

**From:** Gabriella Montez

**To:** Taylor McKessie

**Subject:** re: Oh honey

Dinner at mine with you and Billy and Meg sounds delightful, McKessie, do you want to stay the night? I just bought a copy of the BBC _Pride and Prejudice_, we could make Jane Austen-themed snacks…I actually have no idea what a Jane Austen-themed snack is. Maybe I'll buy in some Ben and Jerry's on the way home.

I really am fine. Or at least, I am right now. Maybe it'll hit me later, maybe I'll start missing him. I just really, really don't right now.

Give me a ring when you're on lunch, OK? I'll be on my mobile all afternoon.

Lots of love, Gabs xx

* * *

**From:** Ryan Evans

**To:** Chad Danforth; Sharpay Baylor; Taylor McKessie; Kelsi Cross; Jason Cross; Gabriella Montez; Zeke Baylor

**Subject:** re: re: re: LUCKY CHARMS?

Yep, I'll be there. Jaime won't be able to make it as she's flying to Oregon tonight for her high school reunion, but she said to thank you for the invitation.

I might be a bit late for brunch as the University Drama Society are auditioning for their production of Oklahoma! and some genius had the idea of having a panel in the style of American Idol to appraise everyone's singing and dancing talents. They have selected three members from the society but apparently they want a member of the faculty as well, which is fine by me as long as I'm not cast in the role of Paula Abdul. It's supposed to be starting fairly early, but I anticipate it going on later than planned, so I might not be with you until 12:00ish. Save me some of your consolation pancakes, eh Gabs? The guy didn't deserve you, by the way.

See you tomorrow,

Ryan

* * *

**From:** Zeke Baylor

**To:** Kelsi Cross; Sharpay Baylor; Chad Danforth; Taylor McKessie; Gabriella Montez; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans

**Subject: **re: re: A reminder

Thanks Kels, but I think I'm probably all set, food-wise, but I'll give you a ring tonight if I realize I'm going to be short of anything.

I think a walk would be really nice and yes, it's probably going to be a good idea to try and walk off brunch before dinner. Jase, do you still have the map we bought for that massive bike ride that you and me and Danforth did? I seem to remember there were some pretty cool trails in that…

My editor just came through and glanced at my screen and thankfully thought my menu for tomorrow was a restaurant review. I had better get on.

See you tomorrow,

Zeke

PS: Gabby, the dude was a loser.

PPS: Shar, I was thinking spaghetti carbonara and green salad.

* * *

**From:** Sharpay Baylor

**To:** Gabriella Montez

**Subject: **Zeke's right

Honey, he is a loser, and you definitely made the right choice, but that doesn't mean it won't hit you at some point, you know that, right? Just know that I'm here for you if that happens.

I just spoke to Tay, and I'm glad you've got plans with her tonight. She did invite me, but today has been so manic, I think I will pass and go home to my husband and his spaghetti. I don't want to miss out on the delightful Mr Darcy though, can we arrange another viewing some time?

Lots of love to you, hon, looking forward to seeing you tomorrow,

S xxxxx

* * *

**From:** Taylor McKessie

**To:** Sharpay Baylor; Chad Danforth; Zeke Baylor; Gabriella Montez; Kelsi Cross; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans

**Subject:** re: A reminder

Zeke, I just spoke to your lovely wife, but just wanted to let you know that I am all set for tomorrow but unlike Chad, have managed to organise myself an underling-free weekend. So I can point and laugh at him when his beeper goes off.

Let me know if I can bring anything, and I am very willing to help tomorrow, I am a very good yam masher.

Thanksgiving Dinner! Woop!

Taylor xx

* * *

**From:** Chad Danforth

**To:** Sharpay Baylor; Taylor McKessie; Zeke Baylor; Gabriella Montez; Kelsi Cross; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans

**Subject:** re: A reminder

McKessie, any pointing and laughing you make now may come back to haunt you. Just remember that.

Zeke, I just got off the phone with a buddy from Georgetown, he's in town and we were going to meet up this evening but something's come up for him. Would it be OK if he joined us for dinner tomorrow? I wouldn't ask except he's new in town and I haven't seen him for years.

Actually, don't bother replying to this, I've just remembered you were trying to get on with your review, I'll give you a ring when I get home this evening.

Speak to you later,

C


	10. Hoops

**Hoops**

"Oh man, check out that view!"

Zeke's Better Late Than Never Thanksgiving Brunch had been a massive success. Chad had decided against an early run and had appeared on the doorstep at 11:00 with a box of Lucky Charms for Sharpay, much to her husband's disgust. Ryan had arrived a little late with chocolate syrup for Gabby's pancakes and at least an hour's worth of anecdotes and impressions from the auditions for Oklahoma! Which had, apparently, not gone well. Once everything had been eaten, and once everyone had composed themselves after Ryan's particularly off-key rendition of _Oh What a Beautiful Mornin'_, everyone had wrapped up and driven up into the Sandia foothills, where hiking trails criss-crossed the slopes. The trail they had taken wound up through the trees and finally came out on a little plateau that looked down on the plains below them and, with the sun glinting off rooves and windows a little further in the distance, Albuquerque. Chad had reached the top first, but as everyone joined him, they couldn't help but agree with his sentiment.

The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows over the ground, and shining through the remaining orange and yellow leaves on the trees. Although they were nowhere near the parts of the hills that had seen snowfall, there was a real chill in the air and everyone was glad of their thick coats and scarves. Taylor went to join her boyfriend, and Gabby swallowed the first tiny pang of regret at ending things with Elliot when she saw Chad slide his arm round Taylor's shoulders and kiss the top of her head. It couldn't be jealousy because she was so happy that after several long, frustrating years, two of her best friends had realised they were in love with each other. It wasn't that she wished she was still with Elliot, because in the hours since she had ended it with him, she had been surprised to experience nothing but relief. Maybe, she realised, it was just a long time since she had felt like Chad and Taylor clearly did. If she ever felt like that…She shook herself slightly, hoping the others, if they saw, would attribute it to the cold.

"I'm sorry to harp on about this, but really, might I just say what an excellent idea of mine this was?" Sharpay inspected a large rock for wildlife before sitting down and rooting through her husbands coat pockets. "Zeke honey, did you bring any cookies?"

"Shar, we have been eating virtually all day so far!" Kelsi came to sit next to her. "You can't possibly want any more food!"

"That's all you know Kels, I'll have you know I am eating for two and anyway, eating all day is what you're supposed to do on Thanksgiving. Zeke? Cookies?"

Zeke smiled, reaching for the backpack they had brought with a couple of bottles of water and the Mountain Survival Pack that Gabriella and Kelsi had put together in a fit of panic several months previously after reading an article in the Albuquerque Journal about walkers going hiking unprepared. "As a matter of fact…"

There was a collective groan from the rest of the party. "Zeke! You can't be serious! More food?" Gabby looked up from the map where she and Jason were planning the route back to the cars.

Ryan nodded. "Yeah, really Zeke you shouldn't encourage…wait…are those the chocolate ones with the macadamia nuts?"

"Yep, possibly the best cookies ever made." Sharpay was already half way through one. "Want to come grovelling back to the Cookie Lady, Evans?"

"Erm, yes?"

By the time they had finished their cookies and made their way back to where they had parked the cars, it was getting darker. Weirdly, although it felt that they had been eating for most of the day, the chilly evening air had sharpened their appetites and they were looking forward to getting back to the house where an open fire, a fabulous dinner and a lovely long, lazy evening lay ahead of them. Kelsi and Jason had brought their car and Sharpay and Zeke rode with them, leaving Gabby, Taylor and Chad to go with Ryan. They were a few minutes away from Zeke and Sharpay's house when Chad stopped telling Gabby how he could bust a move as well at that Timberlake dude and checked him watch.

"Darn, my watch has stopped. Tay, what time do you make it?"

Taylor glanced round from the front seat, where she was scrolling through Ryan's iPod. "What's that, honey? Ryan! Belinda Carlisle? Really?"

Ryan grinned. "Shut up. I helped choreograph a routine to _Summer Rain_. Talk to your boyfriend."

"I asked what time you made it." Chad leant forward in his seat.

Taylor checked the time on her phone. "Er, nearly six. Why?"

"It's just that Hoops is quite possibly arriving at the house at any time now."

"Hoops?" Taylor turned in her seat. "His name is Hoops?"

"We played basketball together at Georgetown, and he made the most baskets two seasons in a row. I'm not sure why exactly, but the name just stuck."

"I presume this guy actually has a proper name though, right?" Gabby asked.

"Sure he has, it's…oh wait, there he is…"

As Chad spoke, the car turned into Sharpay and Zeke's street, and they pulled up next to a midnight blue Porsche Boxster. Leaning against the driver side was a tall guy wearing a dark brown suede jacket, blue scarf, jeans and boots. Chad jumped out of the car to greet his friend.

"Hoops, hey man, how're you doing?"

"Good thanks, man. And you? It's great of your friends to invite me for dinner."

"Not a problem. Any friend of mine and all that. Come and meet some of them, the other car is just behind us. We went up into the hills this afternoon to walk of Zeke's brunch before dinner. Hey guys," he turned as the others came up the drive after parking the car, "This is my buddy from college. Hoops, this is Taylor, my girlfriend, and these are Ryan and Gabby, two of my best friends."

"Just to be clear Gabs," muttered Ryan out of the corner of his mouth as Taylor was introduced to Chad's friend, "That _is_ the guy whose tie you ruined the other week, right?"

Gabby took a deep breath which was difficult, partly due to the cold air but mainly due to the fact that she felt like someone had just kicked her very hard in the stomach. "Yes Ry, it is."

"…Troy?" Mid-introduction, Taylor glanced back at her friend for a second and then back at her boyfriend's college buddy. "Did you say Troy?"

"That's right, Troy Bolton. It's great to meet you."

"Troy Bolton." Taylor shook her head, and turned round to where Gabby and Ryan had now joined them on the drive. "I don't believe it."

"Don't believe what, Tay?" Chad looked confused.

"Hi Troy," Gabriella stepped forward, her hand outstretched. "Gabriella Montez. You remember? From the cocktail party?"

"You…you…" Chad looked from friend to friend. "You know each other?"

"Yes, we've met." Troy had the grace to look a little sheepish, "But it's possible I have been given a slightly more inventive name since our meeting."

"You're not wrong, Mr Bolton." Taylor turned to her boyfriend as Sharpay, Zeke, Kelsi and Jason came up, "Honey, this is Mr Folksy Charm."


	11. Fozzie, not Fuzzy

**Fozzie, not Fuzzy**

It was awkward, there were no two ways about it. As Gabriella and Ryan were only two who had actually seen him, Mr Folksy Charm had been a sort of faceless figure in everyone else's minds, a sort of pantomime villain like The Childcatcher from _Chitty Chitty Bang Bang_. This mental image was a little difficult to reconcile with the guy who was now leaning against the mantelpiece, holding a glass of wine and chatting to Jason about baseball. After the initial shock that she had invited The Enemy to dinner, Sharpay's hostess instincts had kicked in and she had smiled charmingly and welcomed him in and poured him a glass of wine. Further than that, for the moment, she could not do, and she and Kelsi were busying themselves with laying the table in the dining room, hunting out napkins from the linen cupboard and generally staying out of conversation range of Mr Bolton. Taylor's approach had been slightly more pro-active. No sooner had Chad made all the necessary introductions, and once Jason had struck up a conversation with Troy, she seized her boyfriend by the hand and dragged him into the kitchen, where Gabby was helping Zeke get dinner started. Once the kitchen door was safely closed, she turned round, now brandishing a stick of celery for emphasis.

"You have got to be kidding me. Chad, you have GOT to be kidding me!"

"Taylor, I haven't seen the guy for years, how was I supposed to know?" Chad spread his hands in defence.

"You didn't know that he was a hot shot reporter from New York who had been drafted in to co-anchor GMA?"

"How could I have known that? Since when have I had time first thing in the morning to watch TV, no offence, Gabs…" He paused, suddenly concerned that he had put his foot even further in it and upset his friend.

"None taken!" Gabby put her head round the fridge door where she was hunting for the cream.

Relieved, Chad continued. "I have no idea how you expect me to have known this was going to happen."

Taylor raised her eyebrows. "You were at college together. You lived to together for two years, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Well I'm sorry, but I guess I just assumed that seeing as how you'd been so close, you'd maybe have been in contact these last few years and would know that this is the guy who is taking Gabby's job away."

Chad sighed. "We're in contact in as much as I knew he was in television in New York, and he knew that I was a lawyer in Albuquerque. We were close at college, yeah, we played ball together, we went jogging, but we're not the kind of guys to write each other long, newsy emails when we don't see each other for a while Tay, you know that's not me."

Taylor opened her mouth to argue back and changed her mind. She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, I just…" She put down her celery weapon and went to give Gabby a hug. "You OK?" She asked.

Gabby nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's OK Chad, don't look so guilty, it's not your fault. Go make sure he's not being made to feel like too much of a leper, he may be presenting my show with me, but he's still your friend. Besides," she turned back to the fridge to resume her hunt for the cream, "It's only dinner, right?"

Chad looked relieved. "Thanks Gabs, you're a star." He kissed her cheek as he passed and took Taylor's hand. "Come make nice with me?"

Taylor groaned quietly. "OK. But if he says anything about GMA without being asked, I might have to kick him."

The door closed behind them and Zeke, who had been quiet while Taylor had been grilling Chad spoke up. "You really OK with this, Gabs? No-one would blame you if you wanted to give it a miss."

"And miss your Thanksgiving turkey? Are you insane?" Gabby grinned at him over the counter. "There's no way I am leaving. If anyone should feel uncomfortable about this situation, it really should be him. Having said that, he didn't know that I'd be here, and he didn't realise he'd be having dinner with a roomful of people who have been calling him Mr Folksy Charm." She added thoughtfully. "He's Chad's friend and I don't want to ruin our lovely day by making a scene or forcing you guys to choose sides."

Zeke smiled. "OK, that sounds like the adult approach. Here," he grabbed a handful of herbs from a jar on the counter. "Chop these as finely as you can when you're done with the cauliflower gratin, please."

"Yes chef." Gabby reached for the chopping board and selected a knife from the block. They worked in companionable silence for a little while, listening to The Beach Boys singing _Lady Lynda_ on the radio until Zeke looked up again from chopping vegetables.

"You know that we'd take your side though, right?"

"You're darn right, Baylor, you've known him, what, three minutes?" She laughed and dodged a dishcloth thrown from the other side of the counter. "And on that note, I'm going to go get us a glass of wine and prove that I'm a grown-up and that I haven't been hiding in the kitchen from Mr Folksy…Bolton."

* * *

After the identity of Chad's friend had become known, everyone had braced themselves for hours of awkward silences and stilted conversations avoiding the obvious subject of Good Morning Albuquerque. Two hours into the evening, as Zeke was about to start serving up the first course, it occurred to everyone that the evening was passing bizarrely easily and that maybe, just maybe, their Thanksgiving dinner might not be headed down in flames shouting 'Mayday!'. Troy might have been the reason, or one of the reasons why Gabby had just ended her relationship, and he might have been the guy whose tie she had ruined with red wine, but there was no doubt that was brilliant at making everyone easy. He entertained everyone with anecdotes about the years he and Chad had spent at Georgetown, winning Taylor over with the amount of ammunition he had provided her with. He won Sharpay over by, without knowing she was the editor of _Lifestyle_, mentioning that he had read a copy of it cover to cover on the flight from New York. He had been in a college production of _Oklahoma!_ and got into a long conversation with Ryan about how difficult it was to cast the part of Curly and how Hugh Jackman had blown him away in the West End production.

"…Except the crescendo at the beginning of Oklahoma. You know, the 'OOOOOOklahoma!' part. He didn't do that right." He was saying as Gabby walked in to tell everyone that dinner was served.

"I tell you, man, if that had been the only bad thing I had to say about the kids I was auditioning, I would be a happy, happy guy. Oh, thanks Gabs," Ryan looked up as she approached, "Is the maestro ready to unveil his creations?"

"Wow." Troy sat back in the chair he had been shown to by Zeke. "I have never seen Thanksgiving done like this."

"This is nothing," Sharpay smiled at her husband, and gave a dismissive sweep of her hand past the large round table loaded with gleaming crockery and cutlery, plates and bowls and dishes piled high with food, "You should have seen the ten course meal he did for my birthday."

"And the party they threw after Sharpay discovered she was expecting," chimed in Jason, "That was pretty awesome."

"Enough of the chit chat," Zeke held up a hand for silence, "Let's eat."

* * *

"Honey, this dinner is amazing." said Sharpay a while later, as people were beginning to serve themselves with seconds.

"I'll second that." Troy raised his glass. "To Mr Zeke Baylor for his outstanding culinary talents. And to whoever laid the table, for their extreme dedication is folding all the napkins into little turkeys."

"They were so cute! I almost didn't want to unfold it!" Taylor looked down sadly at the crumpled napkin in her lap. "Did you do them, Kels?"

Kelsi nodded. "They're a Montez family Thanksgiving tradition, and I got Gabs to come and teach my kindergarten class how to make them. She taught me as well, of course, and now I don't seem to be able to stop." She glanced over at Gabby and the two exchanged grins. It was a true story, but it was still possible that the turkeys would not have come into being if they hadn't been so weirded out by Troy's charm offensive and escaped to the dining room under the pretence of 'finalising the dinner table'.

"Another Montez family tradition, Gabs?" Ryan laughed. "I thought I knew all of them, and believe me," He looked over at Troy, who was trying to figure out how the turkeys were made, "There are a whole bunch of them."

"Oh yeah?" Troy put down the napkin turkey and looked over at Gabby, who felt herself blushing. She elbowed Ryan. "Shut up Evans, there aren't that many."

There was a chorus of disagreement. "Oh honey, that's not true." Taylor paused with a forkful of sweet potato inches from her mouth. "What about the paper lanterns? You've made those every year since I met you. And the pinecone collecting? And the wreath making?"

"Ooh, ooh," Sharpay interrupted, "And watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade with hot chocolate and sugar cookies."

"Not Oreos," put in Kelsi, "I learnt that at college. It has to be sugar cookies."

Gabriella looked round at her friends with narrowed eyes. "I am making a mental list of those who will not be receiving Christmas presents."

"Oh! Christmas! Don't even get me started!" Ryan laughed, dodging another elbow to the ribs. "There's the ceremonial buying of a new Christmas CD every year. Bought this year's yet?" he asked.

Gabby shook her head. "I'm hearing good things about the new one by The Mormon Tabernacle Choir though."

"And then there's the carol singing excursion," put in Zeke. "The one that ends up with us all trapped in a GMA Superfan's house as they get Gabs to record their answer phone message and treat us to a rendition of 'Where Are You Christmas?'."

"That happened once, Baylor! Once!" Gabriella pointed her fork at him. "And it wasn't my fault. We wouldn't have had to stay to listen to their singing if you hadn't suggested they put less baking powder in their cookies."

"Oh wait, hold the phone," Ryan put up his hand, "I have the best one. The Muppet Marathon."

"I'm sorry, what?" Troy was, by now, looking really confused.

"All the Muppet Christmas movies back-to-back." Chad explained.

"The Muppets as in Kermit and Miss Piggy and Fuzzy Bear?" asked Troy "They did Christmas movies? How many are there?"

"For a start," Gabriella reached for the wine to refill her glass, "It's Fozzie, not Fuzzy. And they are four. Muppet Family Christmas, Muppet Christmas Carol, It's A Very Merry Muppet Christmas Movie and The Christmas Toy."

"Oh don't," Sharpay shook her head, "The Christmas Toy just kills me."

"I don't understand." Troy helped himself to another spoonful of mashed potatoes. "How different can they be? Surely it'll just be Muppets singing Christmas songs? It doesn't make sense."

"Since when do traditions have to make sense?" Gabby put down her glass. "They're comforting things that remind you of people and places and…" She shook her head. "You must have some Bolton family traditions. Things you always do at Christmas or birthdays or whatever."

Troy shook his head too. "Um…no. We really don't."

Gabby was getting exasperated. "You mean every Christmas at the Bolton House has been completely different. There's nothing that's always the same."

Troy thought for a minute. "I went to St. Barth's last Christmas."

"With your family?"

"Er, no."

"With your girlfriend?"

He met her eye over the table. "I went on my own."

"Oh. OK." Gabby sighed, and started to help Taylor and Chad collect the plates. The guy was so weird.

* * *

"So," asked Troy a while later, when everyone's plates were full with pumpkin pie, "Where did you guys go for your walk? It was a perfect afternoon for a hike."

"We went up into the Sandia foothills," answered Chad. "There are some great trails up there, I'll lend you our map."

"Sandia foothills?" Troy looked thoughtful. "Why do I know that name? I've seen it somewhere recently."

"The Albuquerque Tourist Board promote the hiking up there quite a bit," suggested Zeke, "Maybe you've seen it on a poster or something?"

Troy shook his head. "No…it's not that…"

Gabriella sighed. She knew something like this would happen. "Um, it's where I…I mean we are filming on Monday."

The first really awkward silence of the evening went round the table.

"Ah." Troy looked down at his plate for a second, and then up at his future co-host. "Yeah."

Gabby met his eye, determined that she wasn't going to be the one feeling bad about the situation. "Yeah." To her irritation, it seemed that Troy was intent on the doing the same thing, and she broke eye contact before it turned into a full-on staring contest like the ones she and Sharpay used to have over the cafeteria table at high school. As she did so, however, the arrogance that she had come to expect from Mr Bolton in their short acquaintance faded, to be replaced by something else. A little embarrassment, sure, but...Gabby took a sip of wine to hide her confused frown…she could have sworn that for a second, there had been something else in his eyes. Something almost like admiration.


	12. Just don't

**Just…don't**

Gabby had been awake long before her alarm clock started beeping to tell her it was time to get up. She had woken with the same feeling in her stomach she had felt on her first day of school, on her first day of college, on the day of her finals, on her first day presenting GMA. Today was the day when everything changed. GMA was no long all hers. From now on, the TV continuity guy would say "Coming up! Good Morning Albuquerque with Troy Bolton and Gabriella Montez." _And what makes me really mad_, she thought, _is that I'm not sure I can hate him any more_. She rolled over to reach her bedside lamp, and sat up in bed, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Before dinner on Saturday, she had been so sure how she felt about him. He was the smug TV hot-shot who had been drafted in without her knowledge to 'help GMA achieve its potential', who had shown absolutely zero awareness of the fact that this might be difficult for her, and who clearly thought she was some kind of simple, village yokel. Dinner at Sharpay and Zeke's had challenged that view. True, he was still kind of smug, and he clearly thought she was a total freak for observing national holidays with such verve, but there _had_ been something in the way he had looked at her, something that she couldn't put her finger on. And, she had to admit, he had been very nicely dressed. Those jeans and boots and that lovely suede jacket would fit right in at GMA. In the past, Elliot had made several pointed remarks in their management meetings about corduroy and cowboy boots, but she and Jon had always held that a relaxed atmosphere was what made GMA so relatable to their audience. It was funny, she mused as she climbed out of bed and crossed the floor to the bathroom, but maybe the show _did_ have a kind of folksy charm. Maybe Bolton _hadn't_ meant it as a negative comment. Maybe, she thought as she climbed into the shower, this wasn't going to be as bad as she had first thought.

* * *

Taylor parked outside Kelsi and Jason's house, and walked up the path, checking her watch as she did so. Exactly as she rang the doorbell, the door opened and Jason ran out, a piece of toast in his mouth and a thermos mug of coffee in his hand. Pausing on the step for a second, he put down his bag and transferred his toast to his free hand to kiss Taylor on the cheek, before dashing down the steps and shouting his goodbyes though a mouthful of toast crumbs.

"Morning Tay!" Kelsi met her on the doorstep, a mug of tea in her hand.

"Morning!" Taylor kissed her friend. "Jase in a hurry?"

Kelsi laughed. "No more than normal. Generally, that's how we both leave the house, except today, I have a planning morning and he's late for a parent-teacher conference." She waved as her husband pulled out of the drive and then turned to Taylor and ushered her inside the house. "Have you had breakfast?"

Taylor shook her head. "Nope, I was hoping to steal a piece of toast and a cup of coffee from you if that's OK?"

"Sure, I'm just grateful to you and Shar for coming to me this morning. I don't have to be in school until eleven today, but I know you're both getting into work late."

"It's fine, honey," Taylor hung her coat and bag on the hooks in the hall and followed her friend through to the kitchen, where Sharpay was sitting at the table drinking a cup of tea, "I think we'd all probably have found a way to watch at least some of GMA this morning; we might as well all do it in the same room!"

* * *

"Coffee?"

Gabby looked up from her running schedule, and capped her highlighter pen with a sigh of relief. "Mia, you are without a doubt, the best friend a girl could ever ask for. How did you know?"

Mia grinned. "Just a feeling. That, and Jon is on his second already." She handed Gabby the cardboard cup and peered over her shoulder. "You up to speed with what's going on?"

"Mmm, I think so," Gabby flipped through the pages absently. "And you're right about Jon being wired today, I tried to go through the schedule with him and left after a few minutes of him mumbling things about news spots and stabbing at the pages with a plastic fork. Are you sure he's only had two coffees?"

Mia rolled her eyes. "This is the second one I've got him, let's just say that. He was on a conference call with Ted and Aaron at 5:30 this morning; apparently Elliot had last minute concerns about the section on the environment, so goodness knows when the caffeine intake began." She put down the folders she had been carrying and perched for a minute on the chair next to Gabby. "How are you doing today?"

"Me? Oh, I'm fine." Gabby caught the sceptical look in her friend's eye and shook her head. "No, I'm actually doing OK. I guess Jon told you about Saturday?"

"Yeah," Mia's eyes widened. "I can't believe he's Chad's friend from college, that's so random. How did it go? Was it awful?"

"At first, yeah, it was pretty bad," Gabby closed her running schedule and sipped her coffee. "After the first 'Friends, this is Mr Folksy Charm, Mr Folksy Charm, these are my friends, WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING HERE moment' I went and helped Zeke in the kitchen."

"Otherwise known as hiding?"

Gabby laughed. "Yeah, basically. Taylor dragged Chad off for an interrogation, poor guy, and Sharpay and Kelsi ran around looking busy so they wouldn't have to engage him in conversation. Jase and Ryan were amazing and got talking with him though, and after a while, it stopped being quite so difficult."

"So what happened when you finally made it out of the kitchen?"

"You know, considering the train wreck it could have been, it was actually all right. Dinner was amazing, as you'd expect from Zeke, and there weren't many awkward pauses in the conversation. That was partly due to the impromptu game of Mock Gabby that took place over the first course, but also, I must grudgingly admit that this Bolton guy is a good conversationalist. I mean he's weird, really weird, but he's a good conversationalist."

"Have you seen him this morning yet?"

Gabby nodded. "We ran through the schedule about an hour ago. He seems happy with the format, which surprised me, I guess it must be fairly similar to his previous job."

Mia got to her feet and gathered up her folders. "Have you seen him in action? He's pretty impressive."

"Really?" Gabby shook her head. "Nope, never got round to it. I guess I'll have a front row seat in a little over half an hour."

"I guess so. You nearly ready for makeup, honey? I think Jo's ready whenever you are."

"Yep, tell her I'll be right along," Gabby grinned, uncapping her pen once more, "I'm nearly done here."

* * *

"We're on in fifteen!"

"Where's Gabriella?"

"She was in makeup when I last saw her."

Seated in his directors chair, Jon Breckin accepted his third double espresso of the day and hailed a passing sound man. "Leo, find Gabs would you?"

"Yes sir!"

"Thanks. Oh, and while you're at it…" Jon leant back in his seat and waved to attract Leo's attention, but he was already out of earshot. Mia appeared at that same moment, demonstrating once again the amazing talent she had for always being in the right place at the right time.

"Need anything?"

"Yes. Yes." He passed his hand wearily through his hair. "I appear to have lost both of my presenters. Leo's gone in search of Gabs, but I haven't the faintest idea where Bolton's got to. Could you…"

His question remained unasked, for at that moment, the door to the makeup trailer crashed open and a brown leather briefcase came sailing through the air, followed by a pair of expensive looking wingtips.

"…and if you ever give me tips for professionalism in front of the camera again, it won't just be your SHOES I drop-kick!"

There was the sound of a male voice saying something and then…

"I DON'T CARE HOW MUCH THEY COST!"

Jon drained his coffee in one, crumpled the cardboard cup and added it to the growing pile by his feet. Mia tore her eyes from the makeup trailer, an amused smile on her face which she tried in vain to hide. Jon looked up at her and narrowed his eyes.

"Don't….just…just…don't." Elbows on the arm rests of his chair, he buried his face in his hands. Mia smiled again, and removed the pile of papers from his lap, replacing them with the running schedule for the morning's show.

"More coffee?"

Jon looked up at her through his fingers. "Keep them coming." He watched her retreating figure and sighed, turning his attention to the schedule. "It's going to be a looooong day…"

The makeup trailer door, which had swung closed, crashed open again and Gabby stormed down the steps.

"Jon…I…that…" Lost for words, she turned to Mia for support, who had stopped in her tracks at the sound of the door crashing again and had, by now, got over her first reaction to the flying shoes, now beginning to realise the implications this might have for everyone's working environment for the foreseeable future, "Mia, I take it back. Everything I just said to you about this guy, all the things about how it might work out for the best, how he might fit in after all, I take it back. He has no interest in fitting in, he's patronising, he's arrogant, he's closed minded, he's pompous and he wears really STUPID SHOES!" The last she yelled over her shoulder in the general direction of the makeup trailer, before spinning on her heel and heading in the opposite direction. Mia took one look at Jon's face and ran after Gabby.

"Gabs," She caught up with her friend at the door to her trailer, "Honey, are you OK?"

Gabby turned to her, looking about uncharacteristically near tears. "I just need a sec, Mia. I know we're on in…" she checked her watch and made a face, "…ten minutes, so I'll be quick. I just need a moment."

"OK honey, I'll tell Jon. And Gabs," she paused at the door, "he…he didn't say anything really awful did he?"

Gabby sighed, and shook her head. "No, nothing really terrible, I just feel entirely vindicated in my first opinion of him. And kind of stupid for almost changing my mind." She turned to check her hair and makeup in the little mirror by the door. "I can't remember if Jo had actually finished my makeup when I…er…left. Does it look like she was done?"

Mia nodded. "You look fine, hon. Hair's good too, you must have timed your departure just right."

Gabby smiled, despite herself. "That's OK then." She let out a great whoosh of breath and shook her head. "I don't know how this is going to work, Mi, I really don't."

Mia smiled sympathetically. "I know. I guess my best advice would be to try not to let him get to you." She hopped down the steps of the trailer and paused at the bottom. "You're terrific at this job, Gabs, just do it and do it well. You can't do any more than that."

* * *

"Has anyone spoken to Gabs this morning?" asked Kelsi, as she poured another mug of coffee and placed it in front of Taylor.

Sharpay shook her head. "I tried her land line and her cell. I hope she's OK."

"I think she'll be fine." Taylor took a sip of coffee. "Her cell was probably on silent, and she probably had to leave pretty early to get on location in time. I guess there are probably more things than usual to plan today." She paused, her fingers laced round her mug. "Was it me, or was dinner on Saturday not as horrific as it could have been?"

"It wasn't just you, Tay," said Kelsi, "When I realised who Chad's college buddy was, I really thought that the evening was over. I know Gabs made a massive effort, and I actually have a feeling that Troy made an effort too. There were a couple of tricky moments, but still…" she trailed off, shaking her head.

Taylor finished her sentence. "…it could have gone so horribly wrong." She sighed. "I'm so glad it wasn't a total disaster, I could have murdered Chad when I found out."

Kelsi glanced at the clock and, seeing it was almost eight, got up from her chair and went to switch on the TV.

"You know…" said Sharpay, "It might just be me, but I kind of felt like Troy was…"

"Looking at Gabs an awful lot?" finished Kelsi, "Yeah, I noticed that. Do you think she noticed it too?"

"If she did, she didn't mention it to me." said Taylor, taking a piece of toast and reaching for the butter, "I'm not sure she can see past the 'Mr Folksy Charm' side of Troy right now. He's just the guy who's presenting her show with her."

Sharpay took and orange from the fruit bowl and began peeling it. "What did you think of him?" she asked.

"Well…" began Kelsi cautiously, "I think he did really well on Saturday night. He was funny and polite and really good at putting people at their ease, and he only tripped up with that thing about GMA right at the end of dinner. I mean obviously, my loyalties lie with Gabby, but," she shrugged, "I kind of liked him."

Sharpay nodded. "Me too. I was actually wondering whether Gabby might…"

"Ooh, wait," Taylor, who had been momentarily transfixed by a particularly weird commercial for mascara tore her eyes from the screen, "I think it's about to start."

"And now," said the TV announcer, "It's time for a very special edition of Good Morning Albuquerque, with Gabriella Montez and Troy Bolton."

_

* * *

_

This is important. This show will define you. There are more people who are affected by the changes to the show than you. Keep it together, Gabby, don't let him see how much he rattles you.

"…and we're live in five, four, three…"

Gabby took her cue and smiled into the camera. "I'm here…" she began without thinking, but before she could correct herself as unobtrusively as possible, her co-anchor interrupted.

"_We're_ here," he said, emphasising the word ever so slightly, "in the Sandia foothills for the switch-on of the second-largest wind farm in New Mexico, supplying Duke City with clean, reusable energy. I'm Troy Bolton, and..."

_Oh you are NOT going to introduce me on my own show._ Gabby swallowed her rage and hoped that her interruption would be seen as both playful and scripted. "…and I'm Gabriella Montez. Good Morning Albuquerque!"

She smiled into the camera until the title sequence began and the camera was off her before walking away from her mark for a second, aware how close she was to totally losing it.

"Montez! Bolton!" Jon stalked up to them looking angrier than Gabby had ever seen him. "This is hard. This is awkward. Neither of you are going to enjoy today but I'm telling you now, if the rest of the show is as much of a train wreck as that first link, neither of you will be in television for much longer. I mean it. Get it together. We're back in thirty seconds."

Gabriella turned to Troy and Jon stormed back to his monitor. "Jon's right."

He nodded. "I agree. There's more riding on this than our professional pride. For the purposes of today, you're going to have to pretend that you can at least look at me without wanting to strangle small children, because I reckon that might damage your folk…"

"So help me Bolton, you say 'folksy charm' and I will make it impossible for you present the link from anywhere but the floor. I just hope, when I'm being nice to you in a couple of seconds that you realise that I spent three years taking acting classes and that you don't, for a second, think that I mean it." Gabby turned from her co-anchor in a manner that suggested that they had been discussing the previous night's episode of _Lost_, took her cue and smiled into the camera. "Hi, and welcome to a very special edition of GMA. We've got a terrific show lined up for you today that will culminate in the switch-on of the Sandia Wind Energy Centre. We've got experts standing by to tell us all about the facility, and we'll be hearing from local environmental groups who have been instrumental in campaigning for renewable energy sources. But first," she turned to Troy, "I guess some introductions are in order, because this is the guy who'll be presenting the show with me from now on. Troy Bolton, welcome to GMA, it's terrific to have you here with us. Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself?"

* * *

"This is bad." Kelsi tore her eyes from the TV and turned to see her two friends with similarly horrified expressions. "This is really bad, right?"

"It's like watching a car crash in slow motion." Sharpay got up from her chair and went to fill the kettle again. "I'm not sure how much of this I'm going to be able to take."

"I guess the plus point is that they both pulled it together after that first link." Taylor suggested. "I'm not sure if anyone who didn't know Gabby really well would know that she's clearly thinking of murdering the dude rather than welcoming him with open arms."

"You know, even when you know that, you can't deny that they have chemistry," said Sharpay thoughtfully, leaning against the counter waiting for the water to boil. "Gabs might be contemplating ending his life, but they do look great together."

"Except why do you think they're dressed so differently?" asked Kelsi, looking confused. "Troy looks like he might be about to interview the President in that suit."

"I know," Taylor agreed, "If he'd worn what he was wearing on Saturday night, he'd have fitted right in, but right now, he's making Gabs look…"

"Folksy." Sharpay put in. "She looks folksy. It's a good thing you booked our table at Flor for tonight, Tay, something tells me this is by no means the last we're going to hear of Troy Bolton…"


	13. Guru Bolton

**Guru Bolton**

**From:** Sharpay Baylor

**To:** Gabriella Montez

**Subject:** Feeding the Five Thousand

So Zeke made lunch for me today. Needless to say, I have enough for about fifteen people. I shall be free from 1:30ish if you fancy joining me.

Love you, call me, S xxxx

* * *

**From:** Taylor McKessie

**To:** Gabriella Montez

**Subject:** You

Hey G,

I tried phoning a little while ago but I guess your phone must be switched off. Just wanted to let you know that I found your scarf this morning, the green and brown one? You must have left it at mine last night. Anyway, I'll bring it tonight of you're still on for dinner.

Lots of love to you hon, hope everything's going OK,

Tay x

* * *

**From:** Kelsi Cross

**To:** Gabriella Montez

**Subject:** Want a lift?

Hello lovely,

Just a quick note to let you know that Jase and I both have meetings after school today, so we'll both be coming straight to Flor from work and either of us could pick you up on the way if you wanted. Also, I finally got round to finishing _Captain Corelli's Mandolin_, and you're right, it should totally have finished about ten chapters before the end.

See you tonight sweetie, call me if you want a lift,

lots of love, K xx

* * *

**From:** Elliot Hunter

**To:** Jon Breckin

**Subject: **Today's show

Jon,

I just wanted to congratulate you on an excellent show. I've had the studio owners on the phone already, and they're thrilled with Bolton. He's just what the show needed. You had your doubts, I know, but I hope that you can now see what a valuable addition to the GMA family he really is. I'm also really pleased to see that Gabby has obviously come round to the idea of a co-anchor, here's to many more shows as good as today's!

Please pass along my congratulations to everyone involved, I will be late for the de-brief as I have a lunch-time strategy meeting with Ted and Aaron.

Elliot

* * *

**From:** Jon Breckin

**To:** Gabriella Montez

**Subject: **Fwd: Today's show

Gabs,

For the record, the show was a disaster from start to finish. On the upside, very few people appear to have noticed, including our great and glorious leader. See below.

I'm sorry I yelled at you. Coffee later?

Jon

***********

Jon,

I just wanted to congratulate you on an excellent show. I've had the studio owners on the phone already, and they're thrilled with Bolton. He's just what the show needed. You had your doubts, I know, but I hope that you can now see what a valuable addition to the GMA family he really is. I'm also really pleased to see that Gabby has obviously come round to the idea of having a co-anchor, here's to many more shows as good as today's!

Please pass along my congratulations to everyone involved, I will be late for the de-brief as I have a lunch-time strategy meeting with Ted and Aaron.

Elliot

* * *

**From:** Gabriella Montez

**To:** Jon Breckin

**Subject:** There are no words…

Um, is he delusional? Did he maybe hit his head? Did he accidentally watch a taped episode of Weekend GMA? Jess and Mario have the witty repartee and the finishing-each-other's-sentences thing, and he hasn't seen me for almost a week; maybe he's forgotten what I look like…and that Troy's not Mexican. My ex is a loon, Jon, there's no two ways about it.

I'm having my own lunch-time strategy meeting with Sharpay, but will be back in time for the de-brief and then I will take you to Starbucks to show that I harbour you no ill will for yelling at me. I deserved it. That first link was the most unprofessional thing I've done since I met Kevin Bacon.

See you later, G xx

* * *

**From:** Jon Breckin

**To:** Gabriella Montez

**Subject: **re: There are no words…

You may be underestimating Elliot's powers of deductive reasoning just a little there. Troy is, as you rightly point out, not Mexican, but neither are you blonde or pregnant, both of which Jess is. Even if he had hit his head in the shower, I think Elliot might have noticed that. I can only assume that your acting classes paid off and that you managed to convince everyone that you really _were_ thrilled to welcome Troy to the GMA family. Weird.

Enjoy your strategy meeting with Sharpay, and I'll see you at the meeting.

J

Oh, and you attempting to get Kevin Bacon to do the Footloose dance with you is a treasured memory, one I have no wish to be parted from.

* * *

**From:** Gabriella Montez

**To:** Kelsi Cross; Taylor McKessie; Sharpay Baylor

**Subject:** You guys…

Bless you. Bless you all. I just got back from one of the most unpleasant mornings of my life (English Lit finals? Falling down the stairs at high school in front of that really cute British exchange student? Running my car into a ditch while trying to get the spider out of my hair? Worse than ALL OF THOSE) to find lovely three lovely emails from you guys that all attempt to find out how I'm doing without mentioning the unmitigated hideousness of today's show.

It's OK, you can say it, it SUCKED. After the first link, I thought I had maybe got it together and presented an aura of calm, but I just watched back selected highlights and I seem to have a facial tic and a murderous glint in my eyes. What makes it even weirder, is that apparently, the studio bosses loved it. Mr Bradshaw (I THINK he's the one who owns the penthouse we had the cocktail party at. The one who has never visited the studios but comes to all the social functions) was on the phone with Elliot, who also thinks that it went incredibly well and that I have "come round to the idea of having a co-anchor". I'm not sure how to break the news to him.

I was sort of hoping that you'd all have simultaneously forgotten about the show this morning, but seeing as you clearly didn't and you three know me better than just about anyone else on the planet, better than my ex-boyfriend clearly, give it to me straight: did I look like a repressed homicidal killer for the ENTIRE thing?

Yours in pain and hysteria,

Gabs xx

Shar: Lunch sounds great. I'll let you know when I'm down in the foyer so you can ring down and convince your doorman to let me in; you'd think you were working on Matters of State Security up there. Today's show will have done nothing to convince him I'm not a crim, though. Let's hope he wasn't watching.

Tay: I wondered where I'd left it! Thank you very much for looking after it for me, that's one my favourites…

Kels: Ooh yes please, a lift would be great. Give me a ring before you leave and I'll be ready. And didn't I tell you about _Captain Corelli_? And don't get me started on the movie…

xxxx

* * *

**From:** Sharpay Baylor

**To:** Gabriella Montez; Kelsi Cross; Taylor McKessie

**Subject:** re: You guys…

Gabs, it really wasn't that bad. I mean, you're not going to go winning any awards for it, but after that first link (which really was horrible, I'm sorry, there's no nice way to say that), you pulled it together to a degree where only people who know you really well would have been able to tell what you were really thinking. Which makes the fact that Elliot thought that you were actually welcoming Troy rather than wishing some kind of freak Loony Tunes-esque accident on him kind of…telling.

So what happened this morning? I mean, other than the fact that he's presenting GMA with you. I just thought, after Saturday, that maybe you two might get on. Or was that just wishful thinking?

I've just emailed Security with your picture and told them that you're a local celebrity and that you're not a terrorist or a spy from another magazine seeking to scoop us on our Christina Aguilera exclusive. That might do the trick unless Brian the Conspiracy Theorist is on the desk, in which case you'll probably need to ring me.

Lovely to see you girls this morning, thanks for breakfast Kels. See you all later, S xxx

* * *

**From:** Gabriella Montez

**To:** Kelsi Cross; Taylor McKessie; Sharpay Baylor

**Subject:** re: re: You guys…

Well it was _quite_ wishful thinking, but it's true that I did wake up this morning feeling more positive about the whole situation than I have for days. I guess seeing him being so charming and chatty and warm with you guys kind of lulled me into a false sense of security, because when I arrived on location this morning and we went through the running schedule with Jon and the production team, I spent the whole time waiting for him to be arrogant or patronising, and it didn't happen. He was just sitting there, drinking his coffee, making intelligent observations about the schedule and wearing a similar outfit to Saturday night: jeans, boots, that nice suede jacket.

So I went into makeup about half an hour later feeling weirdly calm about the whole thing, and then right in the middle of my eyeliner application, he came into the trailer and sat down next to me wearing a suit that he could have worn to a wedding or an interview with some foreign dignitary, took off his wingtips (!), removed a portable shoe polishing kit (!!) from his briefcase (!!!) and started polishing away. Jo and I just sort of sat there staring at him, and then he looked up and smiled and said "Do you need to borrow it?"

I think I must have stared at him like he was a crazy person, because he spoke very slowly and pointed to the shoe polishing kit and said "Do you need to polish your shoes?"

I turned my chair around and showed him my dark brown cowboy boots, which had never been polished in their life, and he looked down at them and then back up at me and said, in surprise, "You're wearing those?"

I glanced at Jo who instantly found something terribly important to read on my running schedule. "Um, yes?"

"On live television?"

"On live television, yes."

He did this _Oh I see_ thing with his eyes and carried on polishing. He may have been humming. Whatever he was doing, it was deeply annoying and after a minute I couldn't bear it and said "Er, Troy, what's with the suit?"

He looked up, surprised again and said "My suit? What's wrong with it?"

I shrugged. "It's just…you weren't wearing it earlier. I thought…"

"Oh. That." He waved a hand at me and started buffing one of his shoes. "I didn't want it to get creased in the car on the way here."

"Oh," I said. "I see. It's just…"

He looked up again. "Yes?"

"It's maybe a little bit formal? Considering that I have always presented the show wearing…" I waved my hand at my (clean) jeans, my (ironed) white shirt and V-neck and my corduroy jacket, which was hanging over the back of my chair.

He nodded. "I see. I guess the shows I was sent on tape must have been ones when you were dressed more…conventionally."

I swallowed hard. "Conventionally? You mean I was wearing a suit?"

He nodded again. It turns out that Elliot had sent him tapes of literally the only shows when I was wearing a suit. The ONLY ones. So I said "So you're wearing a suit because you thought that's what I would be wearing?"

And he laughed (or chuckled maybe, it was hard to tell), shook his head and said, "Oh no, this is what I always wear in front of the camera. I find that people trust you so much more if you're presentable."

I got up from my chair. I wasn't stabbed in the eye with a mascara wand so can only assume that Jo had finished my makeup. "Are you saying that my audience don't trust me because I present the show wearing jeans?"

He smiled. SMILED! "Of course not, you're obviously very good at what you do. It's just that you might find that the GMA audience responds better to slightly more professional approach."

Yes. That's right. A slightly more professional approach. The people of Albuquerque would, accordingly to Guru Bolton, feel more comfortable with my particular brand of news and views if I dressed like Hilary Clinton. I think, in the circumstances, that I did reasonably well. I believe that after I threw his shoes out of the door of the trailer and told him what would happen if he ever gave me tips for professionalism in front of the camera again, they only needed a brief buff before they were looking as good as new. I only wish that making this work was going to be that easy.

ARG. I mean really. GAH. What am I going to do?

I'll see you in a bit Shar, and Tay and Kels, I'll see you later. Thank you for being here for me. I don't know what I'd do without you. Honestly.

Muchos smooches, G xxxxx

* * *

****

I am having so much fun writing this story, and you guys are making it so worth my while with your lovely reviews. So thank you to all of you. You're all awesome.


	14. Street Smarts

**Street Smarts**

"You know what? That's it." Gabby leant forward and put her mug down on the coffee table with a decisive thunk. "I'm done."

* * *

After dinner, the guys had gone on to The Lounge for another drink, but Sharpay had reluctantly declined pleading "extreme pregnancy and the constant need to pee", and had invited the rest of the girls to accompany her home, make coffee and see if Zeke had any cookies stashed somewhere in the kitchen. Much as she loved the buzzy atmosphere and awesome live music at The Lounge, Gabby had been only too glad to accept; it had been another long, hard day. Venting via the medium of email had done her some good, as had lunch and ranting with Sharpay. The de-brief back at the Studios had been an exercise in almost maniacal optimism on Elliot's part, strange smugness on the part of Troy Bolton, and barely restrained pessimism on the part of everyone who, as Jon said later, had actually been watching the show. At the de-brief of the de-brief half an hour later at Starbucks, Gabby, Mia and Jon, in a rare Bing Crosby 'Count Your Blessings' moment had sat down with a legal pad and a pen to made a list of all the good things about the show and its new co-anchor.

**The wind farm actually turned on first time**

Gabby: "I was sort of hoping that it wouldn't. Is that wrong?"

Jon: "Yes. Yes it is."

**The environmental supporters and the council members didn't get into a fist fight like that time at the funfair**

Mia: "Was that the time when the clown chased the protestor with the massive mallet?"

Jon: "You know of any other brawls I've directed at fair grounds, Mia?"

**There were no kids or animals on the show**

Jon: "Having said that, that monkey from the show we did at the zoo in the summer, what was his name?"

Gabby: "Mojo."

Jon: "Mojo. Right. He'd have livened things up…"

Gabby: "And by livened up, you mean…"

Jon: "He might have sat on your head and played your face like a bongo again."

Mia: "Oh that _was_ good…"

**Troy is good at making guests on the show feel welcome**

Gabby: "I'll say, that woman from the environmental group was practically sitting in his lap…"

Jon: "Ahem."

Gabby: "Oh. Right. Positive. Yes, he certainly has a way with the camera."

**He has a very nice suede jacket**

Gabby: "That's true, Mia, he really does! Why didn't he WEAR IT?"

Jon: "Because he wants the people of Albuquerque to trust him?"

Gabby: "Shut up."

**No one appears to have noticed how badly the show sucked**

Jon: "…which is good."

Gabby: "Yes, except no one will have appreciated what a tour de force performance I gave today. My acting coach…"

Mia: "You have an acting coach?"

Gabby: "I took classes at college. My acting coach always said I failed to give my performances emotional grounding. She said that I didn't convey the essence of what it was to be alive in the moment. Well almost all the residents of Albuquerque seem to think I actually _like_ Bolton. Ha! Take that, Madame de la Fontaine!"

Mia: "She was called wha…never mind. Go on."

* * *

As seemingly pointless as the exercise had been, it had been good to laugh after the morning they had shared. It was also nice, she had thought as she made her way back to her office, to realise that she wasn't alone in feeling apprehensive about the coming weeks. Troy was obviously an accomplished TV presenter, and GMA was in no immediate danger of being irrevocably screwed, it was just hard to imagine how she was going to come up with five show's worth of believable witty banter every week. Now, however, in the peace and quiet of the Baylors' family room, with some of her favourite people around her, Gabriella made a decision. Her pronouncement, accompanied by the emphatic putting down of her coffee cup, caused Sharpay to look up in alarm, almost spilling her decaf soy cappuccino.

"Done? You're going to quit?"

"What?" Taylor put her head round the door from the kitchen, where she had located a tin of cookies and was arranging them on a plate, "You're going to _what_?"

Gabby looked horrified. "Quit? Of course not, I love my job! Apart from anything else, I wouldn't give Bolton the satisfaction of getting rid of me. No, I was just sitting here thinking that while I'm whinging about my job, you guys all have stuff going on, and I haven't caught up in ages. When I said I was done, I just meant that I was done with feeling sorry for myself, I am done with complaining about Troy Bolton, and I am done being so self-centred. So," she sat up straighter and tucked her legs under her, "Tell me. What's going on with you guys? How's your class, Kels? Do you have a Christmas play planned this year?"

Kelsi smiled. "They're lovely, and yes we do have a play. The kindergarten is joining forces with the first and second grades this year, and one of the girls in the second grade has a professional writer for a Mom, so she has very kindly agreed to write us a play if I'll write a few songs for it."

"And you're clearly pretty upset by that," teased Gabby, knowing that being left in front of a piano with a pencil and a manuscript pad was just about her friend's dream scenario.

"Oh yeah, I'm so mad," grinned Kelsi, "Although I have to say, Jase is getting pretty sick of me trying out various songs on the chord progression of _Ding Dong! Merrily On High_."

"Surely you're good as long as you steer away from _Suzy Snowflake_?" Taylor brought a plate of chocolate peanut butter cookies through, and took a seat next to Gabby on the sofa. "I seem remember him on the subject of that song last year, can't remember why though…"

Kelsi rolled her eyes. "We got stuck in a traffic jam going to see his parents, and the CD I had helpfully brought with me to get us in the Christmas spirit got stuck playing the same two songs over an over again for two hours until he pulled over at a garage and wouldn't leave until they had prised the CD out. So unless you want to see my husband get a crazed look in his eyes, don't mention either _Suzy Snowflake_ or _Baby's First Christmas_."

"Oh I kind of like that song," Sharpay leant forward to take a cookie, and sat back, her hand going unconsciously to her now quite large bump, "I mean, I know it's pretty schmaltzy, but it's a nice idea. I guess I'm just kind of looking forward to next year, when this little one will have made his or her appearance."

"Are you going to find out what you're expecting?" asked Taylor.

Sharpay shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I wouldn't mind knowing, you know, if the nurse accidentally slipped up while doing my ultrasound, but Zeke really wants a surprise."

"Do you have a preference?" asked Gabby. "Even the tiniest of preferences?"

Sharpay laughed. "You know, before I got pregnant, I think I might have been leaning towards preferring a girl, but now, as long as my baby is healthy, I honestly don't mind. I just can't believe seven months has gone so fast, and in eight weeks, I could be sitting here with a baby." She shook her head and reached for her cappuccino. "It's a bit scary, really…"

There was silence for a moment, as the girls tried to adjust their mental image of the Sharpay they knew and loved to include a baby. It was surprisingly easy.

"You're going to be a terrific Mom, Shar," Taylor leant forward and patted her friend's foot, the only part of her she could reach without falling off the sofa, "I just know it. And with Zeke for a Dad, this kid is going to be the best fed child in Albuquerque!"

"How about you, hon?" said Sharpay, turning her attention away from the prospect of childbirth looming ever more present on the horizon. "You're working on a pretty big case at the moment, aren't you? Are things getting stressful?"

Taylor nodded, "Yeah, it's a pretty big case, but it's not stressful yet so much as heavy on the paperwork. It just seems that for every two hour meeting we have, we seem to spend another four hours writing it up."

"Chad's on the same case, isn't he?" asked Kelsi.

"Yes, he's heading one of the other teams, but we're both working on the same thing, and we get to lead meetings together, which is nice." She paused. "But it's kind of odd seeing the guy who is normally so funny and laidback being so…lawyerly. It's almost as if he has developed this alter ego who's this sharp-talking lawyer, while Chad Danforth is the regular guy who makes great spaghetti and meatballs and has seen every Steven Segal movie ever made. I was sitting in on one of the meetings he was having with his team this afternoon, and I swear I thought I'd fallen into an episode of _The West Wing_. He used the word 'prescient'. In a _joke_. And everyone laughed! It was so strange…"

Gabby laughed. "I guess if you've never really seen him in action, it was bound to be a bit of a shock. I mean, you knew he was great at his job, right? It's just the serious image that doesn't quite match up with the guy we've known these last few years."

"I guess in a way, that's kind of what happened on GMA today, Gabs," said Sharpay thoughtfully. "Not the part about having known Troy for years, but after Saturday, I think we were all thinking that maybe if the guy we had dinner with turned up to present the show with you, it might not be so bad."

"Whereas his uptight, pompous, corporate twin turned up instead." Gabby finished her coffee and stretched her legs out with a yawn, which turned into a sigh. "I meant it, you know, guys. I can't spend every day feeling like I did this morning, it's too exhausting. I just have to be as professional as I can and hope for the best, it's all I can do."

* * *

Gabby's resolve lasted almost the whole week. Tuesday saw them presenting the show from the newly renovated Public Library, where Troy had practically every female in the building swooning at his, in Gabriella' opinion, wildly over-sentimental reading of _Goodnight Moon_ to a group of pre-schoolers. Wednesday's show came from the University of New Mexico, where the performing arts students who had managed to get up in time treated them to highlights of the early rehearsals for _Oklahoma!_ and Troy demonstrated, as he had in the Baylors' living room, precisely the right way to sing the opening line of the title song. Ryan, standing behind the camera with Jon, caught Gabby's eye and had to leave the room. On Thursday, the show had a western theme to coincide with the 150th birthday of one of the oldest ranches in New Mexico. Gabby thought she had done her research, but that was nothing compared with the sheer volume of information Troy seemed to have absorbed in a few short days. It was when he led the entire workforce of the ranch in a rousing chorus of _Little Joe, The Wrangler_, that Gabby considered admitting defeat.

On Friday, she snapped. The show was coming from the Rio Grande Botanic Garden which, in less than a week would be transformed into a Christmas fairyland with thousands of twinkling lights. As if to remind everyone that Christmas was coming, the weather had suddenly taken a turn, and though the sun was shining in a clear blue sky, the wind felt icy. In preparation for this event, having got into the habit of studying the weather forecast online the night before, Gabby arrived at work in her thickest dark wool trousers, with as many thin layers as she could fit underneath her green velvet jacket, a dark blue scarf and matching wrist warmers. Troy was, as usual, in a suit. A beautiful suit, she had to admit, with a tie not unlike the one she had ruined at the cocktail party. As she arrived on set from her trailer, where she and Mia had been hiding and drinking espresso to try to warm up, he was standing on the jetty from which they would be doing their opening link, peering over the edge into the shallow water.

"Now there's a guy who knows how to dress for an occasion," muttered Gabby, as she finished helping Mia distributing coffees among the crew, before going to join her co-anchor, "Morning Troy, how's it going?"

Troy looked up and smiled, or rather, he smiled through the chattering of his teeth. "Good morning, Gabriella. I'm doing well, thank you, despite this cold snap. I thought New Mexico was supposed to be warm all the time?"

"It's not that cold, really, and anyway, I thought you came from New York. Isn't it freezing there in the winter?"

Troy nodded. "Yeah, it can get pretty cold. I guess I didn't do much in the way of outdoor reporting in New York."

"I can tell."

"Sorry?" He cupped a hand next to his ear, "Sorry, I missed that."

Gabby narrowed her eyes. "I meant that you're hardly dressed for this kind of weather."

"I think we've been through this before," Troy tucked his running schedule under his arm and slid his hands into his pockets. "I want to present a trustworthy image at this time, when I'm still new in people's minds. Maybe when I've been here a while, I'll be able to let it all go and dress down." He coughed, and glanced at Gabby's wristwarmers pointedly.

Gabby stepped backwards, almost overbalancing into the lake, and swallowed as she felt her resolve slip away. "Dress down? Troy, that's it! I can't take it any more! You've got to lose the suit! You look ridiculous!"

"_I_ look ridiculous?" Irritation flitted across Troy's face for the first time Gabby could remember. "_You're_ the one who looks like she turned up for a day at the fair!"

"I thought that was part of my folksy charm."

Troy was, by now, looking seriously annoyed. "Well you look like a college graduate."

Gabby took a step towards him. "And you look like a bank manager."

The next moment was a little blurry to Gabby. All she remembered later was that he had tried to leave the jetty, and she was in his way. In that second, all professionalism left her, and he was just that boy who was annoying her, and she knew how to deal with annoying boys. Dealt a sudden elbow to the ribs, Troy staggered, tripped on the edge of the jetty and fell into the lake with an enormous splash.

"What…how…you…"

When Gabby looked over the edge, he was standing up to his waist in what had to be icy water, a look of absolute shock on his face. Pushing aside the thought that she had done the second most unprofessional thing since attempting to dance with Kevin Bacon, she gave him a winning smile.

"Mmmm, folksy, and yet…" she paused for emphasis, "Street smarts."

Troy glared at her, and had opened his mouth to say something when they were interrupted.

"Guys? You're on in five…oh you have GOT to be kidding me." They both turned to see Jon standing on the bank. "Bolton, what in the name of all that is…never mind…will someone just get him out of there? Troy, I know your thoughts on going suitless, but I think you'll just have to wear street clothes like the rest of us today. Just this once."

Troy winced, and took the offered hands to clamber up the steep bank. Once he was standing on solid ground, he turned to Jon. "I…er…I came in my suit today."

Jon closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You came in your suit. So what you mean is that you have no dry clothes." He sighed. "Will someone find Troy something to wear? Something that'll make him look presentable and trustworthy if at all possible."

Five minutes later, standing next to Gabby on the jetty, wearing borrowed clothes and with wet hair, Troy received his cue, and smiled broadly at the camera.

"We're at the Rio Grande Botanic Garden, home to the largest cottonwood gallery forest in the world. It's…" He shot his cuff to check the time, and finding his watch still showing the time at which he had experienced his plunge into the lake, turned to Gabby with a glare.

Gabby didn't miss a beat. "It's 8:02, I'm Gabriella Montez…"

"…and I'm Troy Bolton."

For the first time, they had found a rhythm.

"Good morning Albuquerque!"

* * *

"So. Anyone care to tell me what was going on there?" The show had been a success, Troy's unscheduled dip aside. Jon left his place behind the camera as the crew began packing up, and went to join his two presenters. Gabby, who had been laughing with Mia, felt a sudden panic rise in the back of her throat. It had been an accident of sorts, it was certainly true that she had never intended him to fall in the lake, but there was no doubt at all that she had been arguing with him, and had elbowed him in the ribs. It was possible that in a few hours, Jon might be able to laugh about this, but as he marched towards her, Gabby knew that she had better come up with a really good excuse if she didn't want to seriously plummet in her director and friend's estimation.

"Well? Anyone?" Jon was now standing in front of her, his eyebrows raised.

"Um, you know, I might just…" Mia gestured to an indeterminate spot on the other side of the set with her thumb and made a hasty exit.

Gabby met Jon's eye, and was preparing to tell him what had happened, when Troy, who was standing behind Jon, spoke up. "Jon, I'm so sorry, I don't know exactly what happened. I think I must have been standing too close to the edge while Gabriella and I were talking, and I think I tripped on the edge of the jetty, you know, that little raised part round the edge? Anyway, I tripped on that and fell in. I'm really very sorry, I'll try not to…fall in any more lakes in future."

Jon, who had turned round to hear this speech, turned back to Gabby, a look of disbelief on his face that almost matched hers. "Gabs?"

Gabby stared over his shoulder, and made eye contact with Troy, the guy who she'd pushed in a lake only hours previously, the guy who had just saved her from a really embarrassing conversation with her director. Hearing no reply to the contrary, Jon shrugged and shook his head. "All right, fine. I'm going back to the studio now, I'll see you both at the de-brief?"

Gabby nodded. "Um, yes."

"See you later, Gabriella?" Troy had started walking to where they parked their cars, but turned on his heel so that he walked backwards for a couple of steps.

Finding that the power of sensible speech had temporarily abandoned her, Gabby nodded. "Um…yes?"

Troy smiled. "OK then."

"OK."

"Bye then."

"Bye."


	15. I'm pretty sure it's not Lupus

**I'm pretty sure it's not Lupus**

An hour and a half into the de-brief, Elliot, pacing back and forth in front of his Powerpoint presentation, was in full swing.

"Figures tell us that over sixty percent," he circled the number on the screen with his laser pointer, "Sixty percent of people in this city and the surrounding area wake up to GMA. And that's probably not counting the people who are visiting the area, and watch the show from their hotels. It's a terrific opportunity, guys, we need to be presenting Albuquerque to the best possible advantage. We need to put the city on the map once and for all. We need be the first thing that the people of Albuquerque want to watch every morning. We need to paint a picture of the cultural and social events that go to make this city one of the most exciting and vibrant in the country. Now we don't have the viewing figures in for this week yet, but I don't think we need numbers to tell us that this week has been a real success, so thank you to all of you, and especially to Jon, Gabby and Troy for all their hard work…"

Gabby, sitting cross-legged in her chair with her legal pad in her lap, jumped at the sound of her name, and glancing at her watch, realised she had not been paying attention for at least half an hour. Looking round the table though, she was relieved to see that she was by no means the only one. Mia was clearly playing Solitaire on her laptop, Jon was staring murderously into his coffee cup, and even Jaime, who was supposed to be taking minutes, looked like she had temporarily abandoned her task in favour of uploading the photos from her high school reunion onto Facebook. Only Troy, sitting across the table from her, was writing furiously. Gabby glanced down slightly guiltily at her notes, which had started out as Elliot's vision for GMA, and had morphed seamlessly into her Top 10 Christmas Movies, a complicated doodle of holly and ivy leaves, and the design for the bough of greenery she was intending to make to hang over her front door that weekend. She glanced over at her ex-boyfriend, who was now running through a series of stills from the show. Since they had ceased to be a couple a week ago, their relationship seemed to have reverted almost immediately to the professional one they had had before Elliot had asked her out to dinner one evening after the weekly staff meeting. It was a little weird to have her boyfriend be just her boss again, but the relief with which both of them seemed to have seized on the new state of their relationship suggested that maybe, they worked better as friends and colleagues. Gabriella sighed, and leant forward for her coffee. It wasn't that she wanted him to be pining for her, and weeping into his beer, or in Elliot's case, Cabernet Sauvignon; there had been some great times, and she didn't regret the time they had spent together. The speed, however, with which she seemed to have ceased to matter to him made the good times somewhat less memorable than the times spent waiting for him as he schmoozed at parties, the times she had tried to get him to meet her friends, and the times when she had questioned whether he ever really listened to her.

She didn't think she had sighed very loudly, it was either that or she had slurped her coffee, because looking up, she found Troy looking at her, an unreadable sort of expression on his face. She was about to look away with the same expression she had been using on him all that week, a face that said, in no uncertain terms, 'Just Because We're Working Together And My Boss Seems To Think We're Doing A Good Job, Don't Imagine For One Second That I Actually Agree With Him Or Like You', when she found herself remembering the events of that morning. Her slightly intentional, but mostly instinctive elbow to the ribs. Troy standing up to his waist in icy water, looking up at her in shock. Troy standing dripping on the bank, shooting his cuff for the time and glaring at her, and then a few short hours later, taking the blame for it and saving her from having to explain to Jon. She looked away in confusion. Try as she might, there was no explanation she could come up with that adequately explained Troy's actions. She cast her mind back over the last few shows, and concluded that though some of her behaviour was possibly justified in the circumstances, there was little she had done that week that she could be proud of. Yes, Bolton was arrogant and pompous. Yes, he had really strange ideas about professionalism in front of the camera. But she had thrown his shoes and briefcase across a field, rolled her eyes at virtually every aspect of his on-screen persona, and pushed him in a lake. So where did 'Helping his co-anchor out of a situation that had potentially fatal implications for her career' fit in with all that? Why had he come to her rescue when she had shown zero interest in being anything more to him than the girl he stood next to on camera? She sighed again, and uncapping her pen, added another sprig of greenery to the design for her bough, noticing with relief out of the corner of her eye that Troy had stopped looking at her and had gone back to writing as if he were in the last ten minutes of his College finals. Gabby turned to a new page of her legal pad, aware that a clean page would dissuade her from adding to her list of Christmas movies and turned her attention to Elliot once more, only to find him winding up proceedings.

A moment later, hoping that nothing vital had been decided upon, and resolving to track down a conscientious assistant who might have been paying attention, Gabby was about to leave the conference room with the others, when Sam dashed in, a sheaf of papers in her hand.

"Wait, everyone," Elliot held up his hand as Sam handed the papers to him and left the room again, "This week's preliminary viewing figures are in. If you'd just take your seats again for a second, I will just have a glance through them and bring you all up to speed with the basics."

Ignoring, or possibly unaware of the groan that went round the room, he went back to the head of the table and skimmed through the document as everyone sat down again. Gabby was half-way through being shown Jaime's high school reunion photos when Elliot looked up with a smile.

"Well, we were right. This has been a good week. Monday's show received an almost unprecedented number of viewers, which is hardly surprising given the campaign that the publicity department put together. The public is, as we know, drawn to anything new and exciting. What's great is that the numbers seem to have been maintained over the week, with an excellent spread across all our demographics. The general view seems to be that Troy is a welcome addition to the team, and that it heralds only good things for _Good Morning Albuquerque_. I'll get these figures looked at over the weekend and will have a more detailed report put together for Monday, but I just wanted to let you know that we're on to a winner here, people!"

Gabby gritted her teeth, and tried not to catch anyone's eye, especially Jon, Jaime or Mia. It was irritating enough to have Elliot attribute Monday's viewing figures almost entirely to the publicity department, but having it confirmed that the viewing public in Albuquerque welcomed the addition of Troy left her fighting a whole raft of questions. Did that mean that people had been getting tired of her? Was she losing her touch? Realising with a start that Elliot was still talking, and that she was developing a bad habit of not listening to him, she gave him her full attention as he turned to the end of the sheaf of paper.

"There's something of note here, I think," he said, glancing up at Troy as he spoke. "When asked about today's show, a significant number of people seem to have indicated that they found the general aesthetic of the show more balanced."

There was a moment of quiet, before Mia spoke up, a frown of confusion on her face. "Erm, sorry, I'm sure I'm just being incredibly stupid here, but what does that mean?"

Elliot opened his mouth to answer, but Troy got there first. "It means that people like me better in jeans." He said, quietly.

No-one who had been anywhere near GMA in the last week could failed to have grasped Gabriella's position on her new co-anchor's dress code; Monday's Flying Shoes spoke louder than words. There was another silence, this time an expectant one as almost everyone turned to Gabby, clearly expecting something along the lines of Grace Adler's 'I Told You So' Dance. Keen as he was to promote harmony between his co-stars, even Elliot realised that perhaps now was a moment to acknowledge that Gabby had proved that she had the measure of the people of Albuquerque, something that Troy was clearly a way from achieving. With an apologetic glance at Troy, he turned to his ex-girlfriend and addressed her for almost the first time that week.

"Er, Gabby. Any thoughts?"

_Yes. Hahaha! I was right! You were wrong! Folksy charm THAT, you arrogant city boy!_ Gabby looked up, prepared to give a slightly more gracious version of the speech running through her head, but glancing round the table, her eyes fell on Troy, and the speech died on her lips. He looked exhausted. He was sitting with his chin resting on one hand, his eyes fixed on the conference phone in the centre of the table. As she looked, he brought his other hand up to loosen his tie, the French navy silk tie that went with the suit he had changed into on arrival back at the studios. In loosening his tie, he shifted in his seat a little, and his hair fell forward, almost into his eyes. Aware that people were waiting for her to make her gracious victory speech, Gabby opened her mouth, but found her thoughts wandering again. She remembered the tie she had probably ruined by splashing it with red wine. The tie she had probably ruined by soaking it in icy lake water. The borrowed clothes Troy had been wearing when he presented the show with her like nothing had happened, the utter rubbish he had told Jon to get her off the hook.

"Gabby?" Elliot peered down the table.

Gabby shrugged. "It was probably just the kids who answered that question. Our older demographic always liked it when I wore a suit."

If anyone had ever been in doubt as to what a collective gasp sounded like, they need have looked no further. Heads turned, eyes widened, pens dropped. Jon said later that all it needed was a clanging bell and a ball of tumbleweed, and they'd have had themselves a great opening for a Western. Troy, who had clearly been expecting Gabby's thoughts on his suit with about as much excitement as one whips up for a visit to the dentist, looked up in utter shock, but before anyone else could say anything, Elliot spoke up.

"Well, yes, I suppose so. That's certainly something to look at over the weekend. Er, thank you Gabriella. And thanks everyone, I won't keep you any longer."

The meeting broke up with confused mutterings. Gabby had succeeded in not meeting anyone's eye until she tried to catch Mia's attention to indicate that a visit to Starbucks in the next five minutes was going to be required, and managed instead to catch Troy's. The teenage instinct to stare him down took over for a second, but as their eyes met, Gabby became uncomfortably aware that she had never met anyone who managed to say so much without talking.

* * *

"…_And now it's time for Good Morning Albuquerque, with Troy Bolton!"_

_Troy smiled into the camera. "I'm here at the Albuquerque Wellness Centre, a new facility dedicated to helping the people of this fine city live more active, fulfilled lives. I'll be talking to experts about the nutritional pitfalls of the festive season, we'll be finding out about the programme that the AWC has recently launched in local schools to promote healthy eating and exercise, and we'll also be finding out what steps we can take to improve our fitness today. And that brings me quite neatly to our new segment. From today and for the next two weeks, Gabriella Montez will be leading Dancercise 101, a ten minute work-out to current popular music that will have you out of your seat and prancing about the kitchen in no time! She'll be joined each day by a special guest, and today, we are very honoured to welcome the lovely Ms Britney Spears to GMA to get the party started!" He glanced at his watch. "It's 8:03, I'm Troy Bolton, Good Morning Albu…"_

"GAHHHHHHHH!"

Gabriella sat up, breathing fast, eyes wide. The room was dark, but it still took a few minutes to realise that she was wearing pyjamas rather than a gold catsuit, and wasn't about to present _Dancercise 101_ with Britney, but was in fact sitting bolt upright in bed. _A dream, it was just a stupid dream_. She took some deep breaths and pulled her hair off her face and away from the back of her neck to allow cool air to get to it. Reaching across to her bedside table, where her alarm clock read 3:30 on its glowing display, she switched on the string of fairy lights that wound around the headboard of her bed, and slid out from under the covers to go and wash her face. It was only as she was hanging her towel over the rail again that she glanced in the bathroom mirror and grimaced. She looked dreadful, and it wasn't just your average case of bed-hair either, she was a horrible colour and her eyes looked weirdly glazed.

"No, no, no," she groaned, switching the light off and heading back to bed, "Not sick, you can't be sick. Bolton will take over and do the show without you and you'll end up doing jazz squares with Britney." She climbed back into bed and sipped her glass of water before switching off the fairy lights. "Sleep, sleep will do the trick…"

The next conscious thought she had was something along the lines of "LATE! I'M VERY LATE!", or that was certainly what she was shouting, or croaking, as she ran around the kitchen almost three hours later, attempting to drink a cup of coffee, eat a bagel, take Vitamin C tablets, find her house keys and dry her hair at the same time, fairly convinced that she was coming down with something pretty hideous, and more and more determined that no-one should know about it.

Twenty minutes later, with an armful of papers and the beginnings of a headache, Gabby was making her way across the parking lot, when Mia hailed her from the steps of the makeup trailer.

"Gabs, where have you been? Jon's about to…hey, are you OK?" She jumped down the steps and peered concernedly at her friend. "You look dreadful."

Gabby pulled a face. "I'm fine, I just overslept. I don't look that bad do I?"

Mia shook her head. "Of course not. I'm sorry hon, I didn't mean _dreadful_, I just meant you're not quite looking yourself. Can I get you anything?"

"Another coffee? Actually, no, a peppermint tea. That would be brilliant. I'll be in my trailer with my running schedule, if you'd give me my copy."

"Um, I think you've already been given one. That's it, under your arm there." said Mia, her concerned expression returning.

Gabby blinked, and shifted the pile of papers under her arm so that she could see the top sheet. "Oh. Right. Yeah. Well, I'll go skim through it. Come get me when they need me in makeup, would you?"

"Er, yeah sure, OK." Mia's gaze followed the retreating form of her friend, and then she turned with a frown to go find Jon, not exactly sure whether to tell him the news that one of his co-anchors appeared to be running on empty.

* * *

"Are you OK?" Troy turned to Gabby in the thirty second gap as the title sequence rolled. "You look…"

"Dreadful? Yeah, Mia already told me." Gabby didn't look up from the running schedule she was annotating. "I just overslept. I'm fine."

Troy looked unconvinced. "I was going to say that you looked pale. Are you feeling all right? You look like you might be coming down with something."

Gabby finished her underlining and looked up with an exasperated sigh. "And this medical know-how would be coming from where, Troy? Your complete collection of _Diagnosis Murder_ novels? Your encyclopaedic knowledge of _House_? It's OK, I'm pretty sure it's not Lupus, you can breathe easy."

Troy shrugged. "Actually, I got my medical know-how from…" He broke off at the frantic waving of the floor manager, who was watching both the monitor and her watch intently.

"And we're back in five, four, three…"

Gabriella, hoping that she didn't look as dreadful as she felt, took a deep breath, smiled into the camera and the show began.

Sitting in her trailer three hours later, Gabby knocked back two Tylenol with the cold dregs of her peppermint tea, pulled a face reminiscent of her goddaughter Tia when presented with mashed banana for the first time, and sighed with relief. All things considered, the show could have gone a lot worse. In fact, given the decidedly jovial atmosphere in the last hour, it appeared that in almost everyone's opinion, it had been the best show since Troy joined the team. Even Jon, normally the show's strictest critic, seemed fairly happy with the way it had gone, although he had had a few suggestions to make with regards the efficiency of her alarm clock and the benefits of going to bed early when presenting Morning Television. Gabby had taken all his comments onboard, relieved that he seemed so positive, but more than that, relieved that everyone had bought her story that she had simply overslept. The main working force behind GMA consisted of a small, tight network of people, most of whom had been working together for at least four years, and putting anything past them required some pretty deft down-playing and focus-shifting. She had politely refused three offers of lifts back to the studios, two offers of coffee, one offer of cake, two offers of pain medication from those who knew her better and surmised that she might have a slight headache, and one offer of an Indian head massage from Jo in makeup. She had told everyone she'd meet them back at the studio and that she was going to just tidy up her trailer a little (politely refusing offers of help), and had been hiding there until she was as certain as she could be that everyone had left so that she wouldn't have to face any more questions, when all she really wanted to do was get home, crawl into bed and sleep for a week. She stood up with a groan, catching sight of herself in the mirror, which only served to make her feel worse. She ached all over, her throat felt like she had swallowed sand, and her legs, when she got to her feet, didn't seem to want to take her weight. A glance up at the clock told her that most people would probably have left by now. Putting on her coat and scarf, she swung her bag over her shoulder and opened the door of the trailer, preparing to hop down the steps in as sprightly a manner as possible for the benefit of the few remaining crew members, and walked straight into Troy, who was sitting on the bottom step reading a book.

"Ah, finally!" He stood up, folding the paperback and sliding it into the pocket of his jacket. "How are you feeling?"

Gabriella stared at him. "How am I feeling?"

He nodded. "How're you doing?"

"How…I...what? You mean you've…"

"Waited here in the cold for you?"

"You. You've waited. Here. For me."

"Yes." He smiled, almost grinned. "Is that so hard to imagine?"

"Er, well, yes?" Gabby shifted her bag on her shoulder, blinking extra hard at the pain in her head that this tiny movement caused.

Troy looked hard at her for a moment, and then shrugged. "Well, it shouldn't. I may be many things, but unchivalrous is certainly not one of them. You're clearly not feeling well, and I'm going to drive you home."

"I'm fine, really…wait a minute. You don't have a car yet. You have a studio car pick you up every morning, right?"

"Right."

"So, you were planning on driving me home in…"

"Your car."

"I see." Gabby swung her bag down onto the ground for a moment, relieved to have it off her shoulder, and faced her co-anchor. "I appreciate the gesture, weird as it is that you were planning on driving me home in my own car, but I'm fine. I just…"

"Overslept. Yes. So I hear." Troy raised an eyebrow.

"What, you're calling me a liar now?"

"Not in so many words." Troy picked up her bag and started in the direction of the car. "You probably did sleep in, I'm just fairly sure it was because you had a dreadful night's sleep."

"So what if I did? I'm not feeling amazing, I'll give you that for free, but I'm not sick and I don't need your help."

"Yeah, I can see that." Troy muttered, not quite under his breath.

Gabby swung round, stopping in the middle of the parking lot. "What? What are you talking about?"

Troy, who had carried on walking, stopped too. "Seriously?"

"Seriously what?"

"You seriously didn't notice it?"

Gabriella sighed and passed her hand across her eyes. "Notice _what_, Troy?"

"The fact that I carried you today."

"You did _what_?"

"You, the show," Troy swung the bag to his shoulder and spread his hands. "I carried GMA today. I was a little surprised that Jon didn't notice, to be honest, but I was certain you had."

Gabby looked up at him in bemusement. He had carried the show? That was ridiculous. She'd been there, hadn't she? She'd taken her cues, she'd not made any huge mistakes. Then why, looking up at this infuriating man, did she have a sneaking suspicion that he was right?

"I didn't screw anything up, did I? You didn't have to cover for me or anything?"

Troy shook his head. "No, I just wasn't convinced that you were paying attention the whole time. Sure, you were doing your 'Oh tell me more' face, but it was like you were off somewhere else. I fed you most of the questions in the interview, I turned your running schedule up the right way during the news break when it looked like you might be about to clip all the pages on backwards, I took a whole section of script away from you and made it look like my own mistake, and you never even noticed! You did a pretty amazing job of hiding it, but you were clearly not all there today and," he shook his head with a baffled smile, "I just can't believe you didn't notice."

Gabby didn't know what to say. One the one hand, the man was irritating beyond belief, and clearly had some kind of superman complex. On the other, she was fairly sure that his assessment of the show was right on the money. Though the actual events of the show were beginning to blur together, she had a few memories of catching herself not paying attention, of forcing herself to ask a question but then not listening to the answer. If she had been that bad and Jon had noticed…With a massive effort, she pulled herself together.

"If I was as unprofessional as you say, then I guess I can only thank you for covering for me. It won't happen again." She held out her hand. "Now, if you'll give me my bag, I will give you lift to the studio."

Troy sighed, but kept a firm grip on her bag. "I really think you need to go home. You're really pale and look," he placed a hand on her shoulder, "you're shivering."

"It's just the cold."

"No, Gabby," he said with the infinite patience of a Kindergarten teacher, "You have a _fever_."

Gabby sighed, closed her eyes and counted to ten. It didn't work. Finding him just as impossible on opening her eyes as she had when closing them, she turned on her heel and walked towards her car, digging in the coat pocket where she kept her keys.

"That's weird," she muttered under her breath, and tried the other pocket. Finding that empty too, she turned to ask him to pass her the bag or they were both going to have to stay there in the cold parking lot, and turned too fast.

"Would you…" was all she managed to say before the swimming feeling that had been threatening since she washed her face early that morning came rushing over her, and she felt her legs go from under her. She heard a crash as her bag hit the floor, heard her name called urgently, felt herself weightless, and in the seconds before everything went dark, found herself wondering what he had been reading on the steps on her trailer.


	16. The Superman complex

**The Superman complex**

Gabby woke up to sun on her face and the sound of a radio playing quietly. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the light, and moved her head ever so slightly, willing herself to feel fine. The instant ache in her neck and shoulders said otherwise. She closed her eyes again and sighed. She'd tried so hard to be OK, but Troy had been right. She'd managed to fool everyone else, but not him. Back in the parking lot, he'd…

"Hey."

At the sound of his voice, she remembered. Or, at least, she remembered fighting with him in the parking lot, remembered not being able to find her keys, remembered wondering what he'd been reading. With a sigh of resignation, Gabby opened her eyes and turned in her seat, bringing her face to face with her nemesis. Troy glanced over at her and then back at the road. "You OK?"

"Er, I guess." She stretched her legs out from under her and realised for the first time that she was sitting in the passenger seat of her own car. "Where are we going?"

Troy took his eyes from the road and turned to her in disbelief. "You were seriously suggesting that I take you back to work after you _collapsed_?"

Gabby tucked her legs under her again and leant back against the seat, closing her eyes. "Given your obvious Superman complex, I wasn't ruling out the possibility that we were headed for the nearest hospital."

Troy laughed. "Well, you're not far wrong, actually. When you fainted on me, I did think that maybe I should get you take you to get checked out, but once I brought you round, and you tried to hit me, I figured you must be OK."

Gabby winced. "I didn't, did I?"

"You did, actually. And told me that you weren't going to let me make you dance with Britney. Or something. Anyway, I'm taking you home now, and I'm really not going to take no for an answer."

A brilliantly articulated argument was called for here, but Gabby had neither the time nor the inclination. Troy had seemed fairly determined to make sure she got home safe when they were debating outside her trailer, but she rather thought that her fainting had sealed the deal. There was nothing for it.

"Oh, fine."

"Sorry?" Having received nothing but opposition from his co-anchor all morning, Gabby's sudden admission of defeat took him by surprise.

"You heard me." She turned her head and opened one eye. "I can't be bothered to fight you on this any more. You win, Troy. I'm sick."

"I win, eh?" Troy glanced over at her. "Cool."

"Shut up. And how are you taking me home, anyway? You don't know where I live."

Troy grinned. "I had to go into your bag to get your car keys and there was a letter there addressed to you," He waved his hand as she protested, "Keep your pants on, Montez, I didn't _read_ the letter, I didn't take it out of the envelope. I noticed you didn't have Sat Nav in your car, which is a bad idea, by the way, it's very handy. So anyway, I just put your address into Google Maps on my Blackberry, and voila! It even plotted me a nice little route. Any more objections? No? Well then, maybe you'd consider saving your voice for the next person who has the temerity to suggest that you're sick." He leant forward to check the screen on his Blackberry, and turned up the radio a little as _Such Great Heights_ by Iron and Wine came on. "I love this song."

As mornings went, this one rated as one of the absolute worst ever, but she was warm for the first time since waking so early, and Gabby found that suddenly, that was all that mattered. She chose to respond only to the last part of his speech. "Me too."

She didn't see the expression on Troy's face, didn't see the hand with which he very nearly brushed her hair out of her eyes. Iron and Wine played, and there was silence in the car as Gabby slept.

* * *

"Morning Gabs! Didn't expect to see you back here this time of…oh…you're not…" A young woman crossing the parking lot behind Gabby's building with an armful of groceries stopped in confusion as Troy got out of the driver side of the car. "I'm sorry for the mistake, this just looks an awful lot like someone else's…" She trailed off again as she spotted Gabby, who was still sleeping in the front seat, and then looked back at Troy uncertainly.

Troy winced. This was exactly what he had been hoping wouldn't happen. _Stop Press! Local TV Presenter Kidnapped Outside Her Own House!_ "No ma'am." He stepped forward, hand outstretched. "My name's Troy Bolton, I work with Gabby on GMA."

The woman's face cleared, and she beamed. "Oh of course, the new guy!" She put down her groceries and shook his hand. "I'm Bea, Gabby's my next-door neighbour. I'm sorry I looked so suspicious then, it's just I haven't been able to watch the show much this week and so I guess I didn't recognise you."

Troy shook his head. "Not at all, ma'am." He gestured to the car, "I was just driving Gabby home from work, she's coming down with something that looks an awful lot like flu."

"Oh no, the poor thing." The woman looked sympathetic. "There are some horrible bugs going round right now; my daughter had the whole week off school last week. Actually," she glanced through the car window at Gabby slightly guilty, "Gabs was playing with Sasha over the weekend, I hope she didn't give it to her."

"Bea, when you present morning television, you meet so many people every week that germs and bugs and coughs and colds and the occasional bout of flu are unfortunately part of the job description. Whatever Gabby has, it could have come from _anywhere_, so I really wouldn't worry." Troy smiled reassuringly.

Bea nodded, unconvinced. "I guess. I'd just hate to be the reason that she couldn't get to work, I've never met anyone who loves her job more. Oh but then, you'd know that, I guess." She smiled, and bending down, picked up her groceries. "I'd best get on. Tell Gabby that I'll be in to check on her this afternoon, would you please? It's been lovely to meet you, Troy."

"You too, Bea." Troy watched thoughtfully as she disappeared through an archway in the wall on the far side of the parking lot, and then rounded the car to open the passenger door.

"Gabby?" Crouching down, he put a hand on her shoulder and when that didn't rouse her, took her hand in his. "Gabby, you've got to wake up, it's getting cold out here."

His sleepy passenger stirred and opened one eye. "Mnghhhh."

"My thoughts exactly." Troy opened the door further. "Do you need a hand getting out?"

Gabby shook her head slowly, and opening one eye, looked at him for a second as if trying to find the right word. Finally it came to her. "No." And then, because she was sick and grumpy but not ill-mannered, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Troy stood back as Gabby climbed out of the car, and retrieved her bag from the back seat where he had thrown it. He offered an arm, and she took it without thinking. By the time they had crossed the parking lot, it seemed a little late to decline it as she had meant to.

"So," she said, "You decided against carrying me, Superman-style?"

Troy nodded, smiling. "Yeah, I decided I didn't want pictures turning up in tomorrow's Journal of me apparently kidnapping you, and you punching me in the face."

"Fair enough." Gabby would liked to have been able to disagree at this point, but once again, his assessment seemed fairly accurate.

Troy continued. "I already freaked out one of your neighbours, and given your obvious sway in this town, I didn't want anyone getting the police involved. I think we all know whose side they'd be on."

"Yeah, you're probably right." They had reached Gabby's front door, and she turned as she spoke, her hand outstretched for her keys. Troy had his back to her, looking out over the little courtyard on which she lived. "Ahem."

He jumped. "Oh. Keys. Yes, right. Sorry." He fished them out of his pocket, and handed them over. As Gabby opened the door, he turned away again, fascinated by the view. The unevenly paved courtyard was full of planters and pots and hanging baskets spilling greenery and flowers almost to the floor. One side, Gabriella's side, seemed to consist of little two storey houses stuck together, but on the other side, the apartments were smaller, accessed on the second storey by a spiral metal staircase, festooned with years of ivy. The whole place was bursting with life. Lines of washing waved gently in the breeze, kids' bikes and outdoor shoes stood outside front doors under the wooden veranda that ran right round the courtyard. Troy spotted a couple of Barbies left with their feet in the fountain in the centre of the courtyard while their owners were at school. The house next-door to Gabby's, he presumed it was Bea's, had wind chimes hanging outside made from dried pasta and multi-coloured wool. He shook his head a little. It couldn't have contrasted more with his sleek, executive apartment if it had tried.

Once inside her house, Gabby kicked her shoes off, dropped her keys in a dish on the dresser, and turning to Troy, perched on the kitchen table.

"Well…thanks."

"It's no problem." Troy removed his jacket and hung it over a chair. "Now. Where do you keep your cups?"

Gabby sighed. "Would you like a coffee?"

"Well that would be great, but I was actually thinking of making you a cup of tea." Troy peered into a couple of drawers before locating a teaspoon, and started opening cupboards.

"You really don't need to…"

"Look. Gabby."

"Yes?"

"I'm here, you're sick, you should know by now that I'm not going to wait until you're asleep before taking all your valuables and selling them on Ebay. Let me make you a cup of tea, would you? I'm not cooking you a four course meal."

Gabby opened her mouth to argue further, and stopped. "OK."

"Good then. Now." He waved her into the living room. "Go sit down or get into bed or run a bath or whatever it is that you feel like right now, and tea will be ready in a few minutes. Just as soon as I find the tea, that is."

* * *

Two hours later, Gabby woke up on the sofa. She had sat down for a moment to wait for Troy to come through with her tea, and had made the classic mistake of closing her eyes for a second. Now, she found that the blankets from the end of her bed were over her, and a tray containing a mug of stone cold tea, a glass of water, a handful of tablets and a note addressed to her stood on the coffee table. Sitting up and pushing her hair out of her eyes, she reached for note.

_Dear Gabby,_

_Your cup of tea will probably be pretty gross now. I thought about waking you, but it didn't work out so well for me earlier. The tablets are as follows: two Tylenol, two vitamin C, one zinc and one vitamin D. Feel free not to take them, but it's what works for me, and as you know, I have a full collection of Diagnosis Murder novels and an encyclopaedic knowledge of House._

_Your neighbour Bea said she'd be in to see you later; she's the one I freaked out in the parking lot earlier but I think I won her round._

_Take care of yourself, stay warm and have lots of hot drinks. Don't worry about GMA, we'll be fine._

_Sleep well,_

_Troy_

* * *

"_Don't worry about GMA, we'll be fine_." Gabby quoted three days later. "It's OK, I'm not to worry, Troy's on the case and GMA's going to be FINE!"

"Sorry honey, what was that?" Kelsi appeared in Gabby's bedroom door, a tray in her hands. "I have the radio on in the kitchen."

Gabby leant back on the pillows with a groan. "It's happening like I said it would, Kels. He waited for an opportunity, saw one, and took it. Have you watched the show this week?"

"Um," Kelsi handed her friend the tray containing a bowl of chicken soup and a cup of tea, and perched on the edge of the bed. "Jase and I caught a little bit before dashing out of the door this morning."

"And…?" Gabby raised her eyebrows over the rim of her teacup.

Kelsi shrugged. "He was pretty good, I guess."

"Wrong! Wrong! He wasn't good, he was fantastic!" Gabby gestured wildly, almost spilling her tea. "He was terrific! He doesn't miss me at all! No one does! Pretty soon, it'll be 'Hey, there's Troy Bolton from Good Morning Albuquerque and that girl he stands next to.'"

"Gabs, first of all, you don't have the plague, you don't even have the flu. The doctor has told you to take it easy for the rest of the week, but when you get back on Monday, the guy will have had a grand total of four shows on his own. And secondly, if he's getting better, then surely the show is getting better? And surely that's a good thing? You've been complaining about his suit ever since the first show. Well, he's not in a suit any more."

"I know." Gabby took another sip of tea. "I should rise above this and be glad that the show is getting better, I just…" she let out an exasperated sigh, "After this, he'll GMA all to himself."

"What did his note say, exactly?" Kelsi crossed the room and picking up the piece of paper, smoothing it out. She read it for a moment, and then looked up. "Gabby, the guy was _reassuring_ you. He knows how much GMA means to you and wants you to concentrate on getting better without worrying all the time that the show is suffering. He's not angling to take the show away from you, he's concerned! He drove you home on Monday, right?" Gabby nodded. "And saw you in and made you a cup of tea and left you vitamins? Does that sound like the actions of someone who is purely interested in furthering his career to you?"

"It sounds like the actions of someone who wanted to make sure I was out of the picture for a week."

"Gabs. Really."

Gabby put down her tea and sighed at the expression on Kelsi's face. "OK, fine. No, I guess maybe he was slightly concerned for my health. But I still think he'd take my job at the drop of a hat." She took a mouthful of soup and sighed. "Oh man, Kels, this is the best soup ever."

Kelsi smiled. "Don't thank me, thank Zeke. I've had a stash in the freezer since my last cold. I figured that your need was greater than mine."

"Bless you, Mrs Cross, bless you."

Later, when Kelsi had gone, leaving a bedroom floor now devoid of tissues, a load of washing in the dryer, a new loaf of bread on the counter and two cartons of Zeke's soup in the fridge, Gabby admitted to herself that her previous statement about nobody caring had possibly been a little sweeping. Mia had dropped in on her way home from work a couple of times, bringing cards and flowers from people at the studios, Jon had rung from Starbucks every day after the show to give her the de-brief of the de-brief, and she had been inundated with meals and offers of help from her friends and neighbours. In fact, the person she had heard nothing from was Troy. She sighed, and wished that Kelsi hadn't confiscated his note; she could have used something to throw across the room again. What made Troy's success in her absence so irritating was the fact that she was to blame. Troy had been a good TV presenter before, but in the last few shows, he had become warmer, more approachable, and Gabby knew that it was more of a difference than just a pair of jeans and a suede jacket could make.

"Why couldn't he have been terrible at this?" She mused aloud, as she climbed out of bed to go and make a cup of tea. "Why did he choose now to listen to me about presenting style? Why does he have to be so fantastic at my job?"

* * *

"Zeke, your cookies are ready."

Zeke rolled over in bed, and gave his wife a withering glance which was wasted on her, as she still had her eyes closed. "Shar, that's not the oven timer, it's the phone, and it's on your side of the bed."

"Oh." Sharpay raised herself on one elbow and rubbed her eyes. "Who's ringing so early on a Saturday?" Then, as an afterthought, "You didn't make cookies?"

"Not at," Zeke checked his alarm clock, "7:45, no. I love baking, but not that much."

"You might consider it some time, or maybe you could set the oven to come on when we go to bed. Cookies first thing would be really, really…"

"Shar. The telephone."

"Oh, right." Sharpay sat up and removed the phone from its stand. "Hello? Oh hi Troy, what are you...oh no, it's fine...right…uhuh…yeah…so you're at her house and she's…well she's probably gone out for a paper…well, I spoke to her yesterday evening and she was feeling a lot better…OK, well if you think so…it'll either be in the hanging basket by the door or under the third flower pot from the right…OK then…you're welcome…yes, keep me posted. OK then, bye Troy." She hung up the phone, and turned to her husband. "Well that was odd."

"Was that Troy? What did he want?"

Sharpay shook her head. "I'm not exactly sure."

****

* * *

Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews, it's really very kind…


	17. Bon Jovi and the Medicinal Pastries

**Bon Jovi and the Medicinal Pastries**

Being woken at 6:30 on a Saturday morning by a yowling cat is not normally something that people trying to have a lie-in especially relish, and Gabriella was no exception. Opening one eye, she ascertained from the clock by her bed that it was an hour that she had not expected to see that morning, and tried to go back to sleep. Five minutes later, having further ascertained that sleep was going to be impossible, she got out of bed and pulled on her UCLA sweatshirt and socks. Pulling her dark hair up into a ponytail, she went out onto the little balcony outside her bedroom and, looking down, saw Bon Jovi, her eight year-old neighbour Joe's kitten sitting looking up at her from amongst the plant pots and planters by the steps to the veranda. She sighed.

"Bon, this has got to stop. I fully recognise your right to yowl, but must you do it on Saturdays? Outside my house? I am recuperating, you know. Joe and Sasha are probably already awake, why don't you go play with them?"

Most people, when facing the wrath of a woman recovering from a heavy cold and woken a full three hours before she had planned on greeting the day, would back down and retreat with a muttered apology. Not so Bon Jovi the kitten. With a groan, Gabriella went back into the house, and downstairs to the kitchen, turning on the coffeemaker as she passed.

Half an hour later, she looked up from her MacBook Pro, open on the bed in front of her, and realised that everything had gone quiet. She had supervised Bon Jovi as he made incredibly short work of a saucer of kitten milk, and had left him playing with the tassels on her scarf and the foil containers from miniature apple pies. She left her room, where she had been writing an email to her brother Diego, and went downstairs to find her impromptu house guest fast asleep on one end of the sofa in a sliver of early morning sunshine.

"That's how it works, is it? Wake me up at the crack of dawn, use me for my tasselly scarf and pie containers and then go to sleep when you've had all you can get. Well Mr Jovi," she picked him up and made for the door, where she stepped into her sneakers, "I think it's time you went home to Joe. Where you will manage another breakfast, no doubt."

Standing on the veranda after depositing Bon in the arms of his apologetic owner, Gabby suddenly realised that she was feeling better. Not complete-bill-of-health better, but she no longer felt like she'd spent half an hour on a Tilt-A-Whirl, and that was definitely a start. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that she would be back at work on Monday though, and it was partly this thought that spurred her on to go back into her house and change into gym clothes and running shoes. She retrieved her iPod from the pocket of her coat hanging on the peg by the door, fished her gloves out of the top of her bag and left the house, slamming the door behind her.

Mindful of what her mother would say about her going for a run when recovering from a heavy cold, she had also taken a scarf, but found that the air was still very cold, and for the next few minutes, she ran hard without turning on her music. Once she reached the park, she had warmed up sufficiently to slow down, set her iPod to 'shuffle', and start appreciating the sunshine and clear blue sky. All things considered, it was, she decided, a good thing that Bon had decided to wake her. It really was too beautiful a morning not to be out, and it felt great to blow away all the cobwebs after a week of sitting inside watching TV and eating chicken soup and toast. Her usual running route took her out of the park and through the leafy streets to skirt the Albuquerque Country Club, where a few golfers were already out improving their swing. She smiled to herself and waved as she recognised the elderly couple who lived in the apartment directly opposite her, as they crossed the green in matching green and blue diamond patterned sweaters. She passed the Botanic Gardens and Aquarium, where she, Taylor and Sharpay had had summer jobs in high school, and circled back through the Old Town, stopping outside _Felicci_, her favourite bakery in the city. As usual, one look through the window made her wish that she had brought more money with her than just fifty cents for Saturday's _Albuquerque Journal_. Gingerbread stars and snowflakes, sparkling with sanding sugar hung on red ribbons in the window over baskets of almond croissants, pain au chocolat, cranberry danishes, oatmeal and raisin cookies and vanilla pan de huevo.

"Thinking about ending your jog the traditional way, then Gabs?"

The pastry adoration ended abruptly as Nic Felicci appeared on the doorstep of the bakery, looking a fraction of her fifty years with her long curly hair twisted up on top of her head, and a smudge of flour across her nose.

Gabby laughed. "You know I never mean to, Nic. I just can't seem to say no to those apricot danishes of yours. Anyway," she patted the pocket in her sweatshirt, "I only have enough cash for the _Journal_ this morning."

"Pfft, you don't need money to shop here, Montez, you know that," Nic waved her hand dismissively, "Your Mama was the first person to buy anything in this shop; she bought a loaf of walnut bread and a bag of almond croissants and told us that she'd tell all her friends about us, and fifteen years later, we're still here, and even though you don't all live in the city any more, you Montezes are still our favourite customers."

"Ah Nic, you sweetie," Gabby gave her a kiss, brushing the flour off her cheek that had transferred itself, "Don't worry about it though, Kels has been keeping me in fresh bread this week."

"Oh that's right hon, you've been sick! Marc!" she shouted over her shoulder before pushing Gabby inside the shop, "What do we have in the way of medicinal pastries?"

"Medicinal pastries?" Her husband, Marc Felicci came through the door behind the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. "Woman, what are you talking abou…oh hey, it's a Montez!" His smile broadened and he came round to give her a hug. "Great to see you, honey, how are you doing?"

Gabby grinned and returned his hug. "Much better thanks, Marc, I've been well looked after. I thought I'd get out and blow some of the cobwebs away this morning."

"Prove to yourself that you're ready to go back to work on Monday, you mean," Nic looked at her sternly over the counter as she transferred hot croissants from a baking tray to an empty basket, "I know you, Miss Montez, and your Mama would want to know that someone was keeping an eye on you."

Gabby rolled her eyes. "Believe me Nic, what with Kels and Taylor and Sharpay on my back, not to mention my new co-anchor, there is absolutely no chance of me being allowed to do anything even remotely stupid. Frankly, I'm surprised there wasn't an armed guard stationed outside my house this morning!"

Nic laughed. "OK, it sounds like the girls have pretty much got you under control. I've yet to meet this Troy Bolton though, how's he settling in?"

Gabby opened her mouth to give them the tried and tested 'Oh everything's _fine_, things are _great_!' line, but changed her mind. These people had known her since she was a teenager, they had cured heartbreak and bad days at school with more almond croissants than she cared to admit, and she had known them too long to try to put anything past them. She shrugged. "We're getting there. I guess you saw that first show?" Marc looked up from where he was wiping down the counter and caught her eye with a grin. She winced. "Yeah, I thought so. You know, I think you guys may among the only people who realised just how truly bad that show was. Jon was one of them, as you might imagine; his pep talk was pretty legendary. How did it go again? Something about never working again in television…anyway, it did the trick. The show's still by no means perfect, and Troy drives me crazy virtually every second that we're off the air, but yeah, it's getting better."

Nic smiled. "Well I'm glad, honey. And I'm sure he'll be glad when you get back to work, he's been looking a bit lost without you these last couple of days."

"Are you kidding?" Gabby leant on the marble counter, rolling a canister of snowflake sugar sprinkles between her hands. "He's been in his element! Did you see his interview with the Governor of New Mexico and his wife? He had them eating out of his hand! They're going to name their new dog after him!"

Nic shrugged. "Yeah, he's good, I didn't say he wasn't good. I don't know, he just looked a bit lost on his own up there."

"I think you're seeing things, Mrs Felicci."

"Maybe I am, and maybe I'm not." Nic grinned and, spotting a regular customer about to enter the shop, turned to wrap up two French sticks. "We'll have to see, won't we?" She continued over her shoulder.

Gabby frowned slightly and opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Marc. "Kid, you know as well as I do that arguing with my wife is like chipping ice with cooked spaghetti."

Gabby laughed. "Never heard that one, Marc."

"Oh grasshopper," Marc clapped her on the shoulder as he rounded the counter to help serve customers with his wife. "That's 'cos I just made it up."

Fifteen minutes later, a copy of the _Journal_ under her arm, and a paper bag of croissants and cinnamon raisin bagels in her hand, Gabby entered the courtyard of her building, walked up the steps of the veranda and realised that she had left her keys in the pocket of her other jacket. Sighing with frustration, and muttering under her breath at brain power lost through excessive watching of _Laguna Beach_ repeats, she shifted the third flower pot from the right out of the way with her foot to get at the spare key, only to find the space beneath it empty. Frowning in confusion, Gabby put her paper and pastries down on the top step and checked the other flower pots in the line to make sure she hadn't made a mistake. No. No key. Standing up, she was about to go and knock for Bea to ask for the spare key that she left with them, when she noticed with a start that her front door was standing slightly ajar. She might have been dumb enough to go out without her keys, but she was certainly not so stupid to leave the front door _open_, was she? She went to investigate but sudden, _CSI_ flashback-like images of her disturbing a robbery flashed before her eyes. Vowing to hide her key in a less obvious place in future, she snatched up the first big heavy thing she could find lying about on the veranda and with what she hoped was a terrifying yell, kicked the door as hard as she could.

Gabby had kicked her front door open before. It was true that on previous occasions, she had had her arms full of groceries and had not been possibly apprehending a bunch of robbers going through her DVD collection, but she thought that on that previous occasion, she remembered the door swinging wide open, crashing into the coat rack on the wall. The thud as it hit something solid and swung to again was not something she remembered and she frowned in confusion; maybe a coat had fallen off its peg, or maybe she had left a messier pile of shoes along the wall than she remembered. Rather more gently, she pushed the door again and this time, the door swung open all the way, to reveal not a pile of shoes, not a robbery in progress, but Troy, sitting on the floor with one eye scrunched closed, his hand to his head. Gabby, standing on the doorstep, Joe's baseball bat still in her hand, found herself momentarily speechless. Her co-anchor did not have the same difficulty.

"Wow," he got slowly to his feet, his hand still to his temple, "I walked right into that one."

* * *

"Yeah, she's fine, Zeke…she'd gone out like Sharpay said…no, for a run actually…yes, she's looking much better…OK, I'll tell her…thanks man, and thank Sharpay for me, would you? OK then, yep, bye then." Troy snapped his cell shut and leant on the worktop next to Gabriella, who was putting the pastries from Nic and Marc in the breadbox. "Sharpay says to remind you that you're having lunch with her today."

Gabby glanced at him. "Oh right, yeah, thanks." Troy looked as if he might have been about to say something, but changed his mind and went to sit at the kitchen table. Now with her back to him, Gabby took a deep calming breath and closed her eyes for a second. She wasn't exactly sure how she was supposed to deal with a situation like this. On the one hand, the guy had rung her friend to find out where the spare key was, for reasons as yet undisclosed, and had been, what, waiting for her? How weird was that? Creepy, even. On the other hand she had sort of accidentally smacked him in the face with the door, and even though she was annoyed with him for frightening her, she wasn't convinced you could carry on being irritated with someone who hadn't exactly done anything wrong once you had assaulted them. She sighed and glanced over her shoulder at her uninvited house guest, who looked like he could use some kind of pain medication. He clearly had an explanation, and chances were, it would probably take a while. She reached for two mugs and turned properly to face him.

"Coffee?"

Troy looked up at her gratefully. "Er, yes please, that would be great."

With the coffeemaker bubbling away, Gabby brought the empty mugs to the kitchen table, along with a couple of almond croissants. "You eaten yet?" she asked, setting the plates down.

Troy shook his head. "Not unless you count the espresso I had at six this morning."

Gabby smiled. "Well I do sometimes think that coffee should be counted as a foodstuff. That being said, you should try one of these croissants. If you're going to be any sort of Albuquerquian, you really ought to shop at _Felicci_; they make the best bread and the best pastries this side of I don't know where."

Troy laughed. "Friends of yours?"

"Well yes, actually, but I promise I'm not biased. Or, at least, not much," she added, "Try one and tell me I'm wrong."

"I don't want to prove you wrong, Montez, don't get all defensive with me. Actually, I'd be delighted to find a bakery to replace the one I walked past every morning in New York; the last danish I had from there is etched in my memory."

"Er, dramatic much?" Gabriella brought the coffee pot back to the table and poured them each a cup.

"You can't take a good danish too seriously Gabby," Troy smiled, covering his mug with a hand and a shake of the head when she offered milk. "Although I suspect you already knew that."

Gabby laughed, but in the oddly comfortable silence that followed, she suddenly remembered that they were yet to have the conversation that explained why she had found him in her house. What was even stranger than the comfortable silence was the fact that she found herself not wanting to break it and return to their normal relationship, the one where he thought she was an idiot and she thought he was an arrogant city boy.

"So," she tore a corner off her croissant and chewed it slowly, "Espresso at six this morning? That seems a little early to be up on a Saturday, especially for someone who gets up so painfully early during the week, unless you're supplementing your wage by doing the early shift at Starbucks."

"Two words." Troy took a bit of croissant and rolled his eyes. "Oh. Wow. That's so good."

"That's more than…"

"Shut up. Two words. Body. Clock."

"Ohhhh right, I remember." Gabby nodded, lacing her fingers round her coffee mug. "You're getting up at five during the week and your body clock hasn't adjusted to weekend time yet. I'm with you. I remember that."

Troy nodded. "I really didn't think it'd be much of an adjustment, I was getting up pretty early in New York."

Gabby shrugged. "It doesn't have to be that much of an adjustment to throw your body clock out. Don't worry, it'll get better. I can't remember exactly how long it took, but I've been sleeping in on Saturdays for years."

"You weren't this morning."

Gabby sighed, as the comfortable feeling at the kitchen table slowly ebbed away. "No. My neighbour's kitten woke me at six-thirty this morning by yowling outside my window, and showed no sign of stopping until I invited him in. So after I'd taken Bon Jovi back to Joe…"

"Bon Jovi?"

"The kitten."

"Right. Sorry, carry on."

"Once I'd taken Bon Jovi back to Joe's, it seemed like too nice a morning not to get out and have some fresh air after being inside practically all week. Which," she sighed again, "brings us to what happened just now."

"What, you mean when you pulled a Sydney Bristow and smacked me in the face with your front door?" Troy paused with a piece of croissant inches from his mouth and laughed at Gabby's outraged expression. "Sorry. I know it must have looked a little…shall we say…"

"Creepy?"

"Erm, well, yes. OK. I'm sorry if it looked like that; I just came by to see how you were doing, and you didn't answer the door when I knocked."

"So you jumped to the obvious conclusion that I was dead?"

"Not dead, it just seemed a little odd to me that you weren't answering the door. It honestly didn't occur to me that you were out. The last time I saw you, you were, if you recall, asleep on the sofa."

"So you rang Shar?"

"Yes."

"And asked her where my spare key was?"

"Yes."

"And you were, what, waiting for me to get home?"

"No!" Troy looked hurt. "_Waiting for you_ in your house? Eugh, no, that really _would_ have been creepy. No, I let myself in and just ascertained that you weren't unconscious on the bathroom floor, and was leaving when you got all Chuck Norris on me." He sighed and took a sip of coffee before continuing. "I'm sorry if I scared you, Gabby, but I got worried when you didn't answer the door. I had been in your house for less than a minute when you got home."

Gabby finished her last mouthful of croissant before answering. "It was pretty early, Troy, did it not occur to you that I might have just been asleep?"

At this point, Troy had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "Well, actually, that hadn't occurred to me until I was actually standing in your kitchen. I saw your kitchen clock and suddenly realised how early it still was."

"Just so you know, if you'd woken me up by dashing into my bedroom, I might have had to pound on you." Gabby got to her feet, and took her empty plate to the sink.

"I don't doubt it. And you're right, by the way, that croissant was amazing. I am absolutely going to go down to _Felicci_ this afternoon and set up some kind of standing order." Troy joined her at the sink with his plate. "Thank you."

Gabby smiled briefly as she ran hot water into the bowl. "You're welcome. Oh, are you OK?" she asked, suddenly concerned, as he put a sudden hand to his head and winced.

Troy nodded. "Yeah, fine. Just a twinge."

"Oh man." Gabby stopped the water and turned to him properly. "I'm so sorry. Are you really OK? Look, here, have a couple of these." She opened the cupboard over the sink and took down the box of Tylenol that Troy had left at the beginning of the week. "Do you want a glass of water to take them?"

Troy looked past the Tylenol to the half empty vitamin bottles that stood on the same shelf and then glanced back at her with a smile. "You decided to take the advice of someone with nothing but a complete collection of _Diagnosis Murder_ novels to recommend him, then?"

Gabby rolled her eyes. "Yeah, OK, I did, happy? They seemed to work, too. And you have more medical knowledge than I gave you credit for."

Troy leant back against the worktop and put his hands in his pockets. "No, you're absolutely right, Gabby. I learnt everything I know from _House_ and _ER_. That Doctor Kovac sure knows what he's doing..."

"Troy. Be serious for a moment, would you?"

Troy spread his hands. "You got me, Sherlock. I was a second year med student at Georgetown when I switched to do Political Science instead."

Gabby rinsed the plates under the hot tap and put them on the rack to dry. "So why the switch?" she asked.

Troy shrugged, looking down at his boots. "I just realised that I wasn't studying medicine for the right reasons."

"And those reason would be…"

"To heal people. To make a difference."

"And you were studying medicine…"

Troy looked up and met her eye. "Because my Father wanted me to."

"Oh." Gabby looked back at the washing up. "Right. Um, I'm sorry, I should have…"

"Don't worry about it." Troy popped two Tylenol out of the blister pack and knocked them back with the rest of his coffee before handing her his mug. "I don't. It's not like I hated it or anything, I just realised that I wasn't passionate about it like the guys I was studying with. And once I started my new course and started working on the college paper, I realised that I'd found what I was really interested in. It doesn't stop me, however," he grinned and went to retrieve his jacket from the back of the chair where he had left it, "from using my albeit limited medical knowledge to irritate my co-workers."

"No, I noticed that."

"You did, huh? And I thought I gave my advice so subtly." Troy retrieved his scarf from where it fallen behind the door and put it on. On the doorstep, he turned and smiled. "Thanks for breakfast."

Gabby smiled back. "That's OK, I feel like I kind of owed you after the whole door-in-the-face thing."

"Meh, it was kind of worth it for that croissant." Troy smiled again, pushed his hands deep in his pockets turned to go down the steps.

"Um, Troy?" Gabby didn't know what it was that made her call his name from the top step of the veranda. Neither did she know exactly what it was she was going to say until he turned round. "Er, I meant to…I mean I wanted to…thank you. For last week. For, er, driving me home and leaving me vitamins and I guess even for coming over this morning. It was…nice of you."

If Gabby had been expecting him to deflect the compliment or make another flippant remark, she would have been wrong. Troy's smile all but faded, and he nodded once, emphatically.

"You're absolutely welcome." He said, and turning on his heel, walked straight through the archway, and out of the courtyard.


	18. Do elaborate, Dr Phil, I'm all ears

**Do elaborate, Dr Phil, I'm all ears**

**From:** Gabriella Montez

**To:** Diego Montez

**Subject:** Christmas and New Year

Hey D,

I was just going to bed last night when I had this really bizarre phone call from Mom, who had realised that she had forgotten to tell me that she and Dad have _definitely_ decided to spend the holidays in Vermont with you and Milla and the girls, as opposed to before, when I just thought they were _probably_ going. I'm not exactly sure why this appears to be such a big distinction; I think that maybe she's worried about me getting post-Elliot depression knowing that you'll all be together at Christmas, especially now that I'm not coming up until just before New Year. I've told her as many times as I can that I'm fine and that actually, I'm happier now that I'm not with Elliot, but she still seems worried. I just thought that when she rings to confirm flight details and such, and she tells you that she's concerned about me spending Christmas alone in my tiny, cold apartment with a turkey dinner for one, maybe you could remind her that a) I'M FINE and that b) my house has central heating and an open fire and c) I'm now probably spending Christmas at Sharpay and Zeke's. That last fact should set her at ease. She's never quite got over the menu Zeke put together for your rehearsal dinner.

You don't mind me not coming until New Year, do you D? I know the original plan was for me to come straight up after work on the 23rd, but what the GMA situation right now, I just think that maybe if I have a few days of quiet between finishing work and flying up, I'll have had time to wind down a bit by the time I arrive. Reading that back, it sounds like work is a living hell for me right now, which it isn't really; it's just been a really massive adjustment having someone presenting the show with me. I don't think I had appreciated just how much of a change it was going to be. Anyway, what with the impressive selection of Christmas shows and repeats scheduled, we don't start back doing normal GMA until the second week in January, so if it's OK with you and Mil, I'll just change my plane tickets and stay a bit longer.

I'll probably try and ring tonight, but give my love to Milla, and tell the girls not to do anything interesting until their Aunt Gabby arrives on the 29th with the video camera. You know, learning to clap, turning over by themselves, that kind of thing.

Lots of love, G xx

* * *

**From:** Chad Danforth

**To:** Zeke Baylor; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans; Troy Bolton

**Subject: **Who's with me?

Jase, do you remember that trail that we almost biked down earlier in the year, but we didn't because you said, and I believe this is a direct quote "I don't want to die in a sea of mud, Chad, I want to LIVE"? Remember that? Well, I was talking to one of my office underlings yesterday (the one who talks like Keanu Reeves in _Point Break_), and he told me that he and his buddies did that trail last weekend and that with the cold weather we've had lately, the mud has dried up, or frozen or something, I don't recall exactly.

He said it was "narly", or quite possibly "bodacious", and that we should "totally do it, man", and seeing as how it's a beautiful day and I know for a fact that Jase and Zeke have taken to lying in on a Saturday morning, chances are that most of you could probably use some exercise.

What say you we meet in the usual car park at 1:30 and then go grab a late lunch afterwards? Hoops, let me know if you want in and I'll pick you and your bike up on the way.

Laters,

C

* * *

**From:** Zeke Baylor

**To:** Troy Bolton

**Subject: **Christmas

So I was working out my Christmas menus over breakfast this morning (Which is way less nerdy than it sounds. Or not, according to my wife…) and we were wondering what your plans were for the holidays. Are you headed home to see the folks or do you have travel plans that involve a cocktail, a beach and a stack of John Grishams? If the answer to either of these questions is 'no', you'd be very welcome to come to dinner with us on Christmas Day. Contrary to what you might have heard, I do NOT go crazy; there will be no ice sculptures, no massive table centrepieces made of pine cones, no quails inside chickens inside turkeys, and, at the request of my wife, categorically NO eggnog, because although the morning sickness has stopped now, there's no reason to tempt fate. Both our parents will be with us for the week, and most of the rest of the gang, as Sharpay likes to call them, will be coming too. In fact, the only person who won't be there is Gabby, because she's going to Vermont to see her brother and his wife, who had twins in the summer.

I guess I'll see you later if you're coming on Chad's Death Trap Bike Ride. I know you've been biking with us a couple of times, but from experience, when Chad tells you that a trail was muddy but that now it has "dried up or something", prepare to return to the car park soaked in ice cold muddy water and covered with materials from the forest floor. Dress accordingly, that's all I'm saying.

Oh, and thanks for ringing us back this morning. Shar was fairly convinced Gabs would be out, but I guess there was always the possibility that she'd taken a turn for the worse. I'm glad she's feeling so much better though; I know how much she hates missing work. I don't know if things between you two are getting easier, but between you and me, I have to say that it's nice having someone at GMA properly looking out for her. I'm sure that Elliot dude was a perfectly nice guy (although they dated for six months and he managed to avoid ever meeting any of us) but the most he did when she was last sick was send her massive bouquets of flowers every day and call her when she'd just gone to sleep to ask if she was better…

Anyway man, see you later,

Zeke

* * *

"Gabby what _are_ you humming?"

Gabby looked up guiltily from her chopping board, knife poised over a pile of herbs. She and Sharpay had spent a lazy couple of hours drinking tea and reading the Saturday papers, and had now moved to the kitchen to start preparing lunch before Taylor and Kelsi arrived. "Er…that would be _All I Want For Christmas_."

Sharpay put her head round the fridge door, and stared at her friend. "By Mariah Carey?"

"Um, unless anyone cooler has covered it, then yes." Gabby grinned and went back to chopping. "There was a Christmas music marathon on the radio as I drove over."

"And that was best they had to offer?" Sharpay brought one of the salad drawers out of the fridge and sat it on the counter top, kicking the door shut behind her, "No offence to Mariah, but I would have thought that any Christmas music marathon worth its salt would have included Bing Crosby or at least Frank Sinatra ."

Gabby nodded. "It did, actually. Bing sang _Happy Holidays_ and Frank sang _The First Noel_ and Doris sang _Winter Wonderland_ and sadly, my brain seems to have bypassed them all."

"You know, Zeke and I were wondering what to get you for Christmas. Maybe your subconscious is telling you that there's a gap in your CD collection…" Sharpay finished hunting through the salad drawer and carried it back to the fridge, where she started peering in jars and shaking bottles.

"Thanks, but I think I can survive without Mariah in my life." Gabby put her knife down as her friend deposited a covered bowl and a couple of carrots on the island and disappeared once more behind the open fridge door. "OK, Shar, seriously, what are you looking for? And," she leant across the counter top to examine the plate and found it contained cold chicken, "what are we making? So far, all I know is that it involves me chopping up bunches of mint and basil."

Sharpay shrugged slightly, staring thoughtfully at a Chinese cabbage. "Haven't decided exactly. Zeke cooked extra chicken last night so we should probably do something with that. And I'm kind of craving fish sauce. Ooh, and maybe grapefruit."

Gabby smiled and perched on a kitchen stool as her friend washed her hands, dried them on the dish towel tucked through the belt loop of her linen maternity trousers and began peeling and thinly slicing carrots. While it was true that few could plan and execute a dinner party like Zeke Baylor, it was equally true that no one, in Gabby's opinion, could make something amazing out of a handful of seemingly unrelated ingredients like his wife. Her love of experimental cookery had begun at Berkeley, where she had lived in a house with girls from Tokyo, Rome and Athens. Their dinner parties, normally thrown at about three hours notice or less, had quickly gained a large following, to the extent that Hito had fielded phone calls on the way into her economics lecture from Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie's agents, asking when the next party was. Armed with a degree, an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of herbs and spices and the ability to make gnocchi, sushi and baklava, Sharpay had left Berkeley to become the most food-obsessed fashion journalist her editors had ever met. In an office where calorie-counting and regimented under-eating was almost seen as part of the job, the girl who was late to Marc Jacobs' Los Angeles Fashion Week After-Party because she was having dinner with her boyfriend was something of an oddity, and even now, as editor-in-chief of _Lifestyle_, she had been known to take the odd conference call from the office kitchen while she threw together some lunch for her assistants. Her cookery also featured in her married life, despite having married the guy who had made her late for Marc Jacobs, now one of the most highly respected food critics in New Mexico, who had more than once denounced her in print for her inability to follow a recipe without changing it almost entirely. Now pregnant, her cooking was no less bold, but possibly slightly more hit-and-miss, reflecting as it did both her cravings and a recent interest in using up all the leftovers in the fridge, a habit that had prompted Zeke to make regular sweeps of the kitchen to avoid her accidentally poisoning them and their unborn child with three day old egg fried rice.

"Can I do anything, hon?" Gabby stole a sliver of carrot from the chopping board. "Fun as it is to watch the pregnant lady do all the work, I feel like maybe I should help out."

Sharpay finished the carrots and reached for the cabbage. "Um, yeah, that'd be great. Seeing as this is probably going to end up being some kind of big salad, maybe you'd make something a bit more comforting and wintery for dessert?" She glanced up at the wall clock. "When are the girls coming? Half an hour or so? Time to make some brownies, maybe?"

Gabby grinned and hopped off the stool to go and wash her hands. "I've always got time for brownies."

Twenty minutes later, a large bowl containing Vietnamese chicken linguini salad was in the fridge with a jug of dressing, and the kitchen was full of the smell of baking brownies. Zeke, who had been finishing a review in is office all morning, came into the kitchen just as Sharpay and Gabby were finishing the washing up while their mugs of coffee and peppermint tea steamed on the counter.

"Wow, something smells good!"

"That would be Gabby's brownies." Sharpay dried her hands and went to kiss her husband. "Hi. Do you want coffee?"

"That would be great, thanks." Zeke slid an arm round his wife and smiled at Gabby as she went to pour him a cup, but looked suddenly concerned. "So, er, if Gabs made desert, does that mean you made the first course?"

"That's right," Sharpay smiled up at him. "I made a nice chicken salad."

"Chicken salad." Zeke looked unconvinced, and met Gabby's eye again. "Nothing too, er, controversial in with the chicken?"

Sharpay looked up at him with narrowed eyes as Gabby laughed and shook her head. "We're not having a repeat of the Armenian Stew Incident, Zeke, don't stress."

"What was wrong with my stew?" Sharpay looked hurt. "It was lovely."

"It would have been if you'd have followed the _recipe_," Zeke accepted a cup of coffee from Gabby. "It could be said that the sliced banana and anchovies were a bold statement too far."

"Yes, well..." Sharpay fished her teabag out of her cup and flipped it into the waste disposal. Then, changing the subject abruptly, "Honey, you'll never guess what Gabs was humming this morning!"

Gabby almost spat her coffee out. "Hey! Don't turn this around onto me! You're the one who made banana stew! And while I may have found a certain Mariah Carey tune hard to get out of my head, I am not the one who nearly succeeded in dragging my husband to Vegas to see Celine Dion live in concert."

"No, I dragged _you_, Montez."

Zeke laughed. "Yeah, did I ever thank you for taking that bullet for me, Gabs?"

"Bullet scmullet," Sharpay waved her hand, almost spilling her tea. "She had a lovely time."

"I did, actually," Gabby admitted, "There's something undeniably cool about a show that has a tree growing out of the stage, a dance troupe bigger than some ballet companies and a flying piano."

"You can't argue with that," said Sharpay, carrying on quickly as it looked like her husband might have been about to disgaree, "So what time are you going out this afternoon?"

Zeke glanced at his watch. "In about half an hour. We'll probably go and get some lunch afterwards, so I'm not sure what time we'll be getting back, but I'll be home in time to make dinner."

"I sincerely hope you'll be having some kind of shower stop then," said his wife fondly, "I would not like to be your waitress if the four of you turn up smelling like a farmyard and covered in mud and leaves."

Zeke glanced at Gabby and hesitated before saying "Actually, Chad invited Troy, so there'll probably be five of us."

"Ah, right." Sharpay also glanced at Gabby before taking another sip of her tea and looking up rather gratefully at the sound of the doorbell. "Oh, that'll be Taylor and Kels."

Zeke went to answer the door, and in the brief silence that followed, Gabby remembered something.

"Oh, Shar, before I forget, I've decided that it's just going to be way too stressful to prepare for all the Christmas shows _and_ get up to Vermont for Christmas _and_ manage to retain some kind of holiday cheer, so I've decided to go up and see everyone a little later, probably the 29th. So I was kind of wondering whether your offer of dinner is still open, or does Zeke have the menus locked down by now?"

Sharpay stared at her for a couple of seconds, opened her mouth to say something, and changed her mind. Instead, she turned as her husband re-entered the kitchen with Taylor and Kelsi, and after she had greeted the girls said "Er, hon, did you send that email this morning?"

"Which one?" Zeke, peering through the glass front of the oven at the brownies, hadn't noticed her expression.

"The one we talked about over breakfast." said Sharpay through clenched teeth.

At the tone of her voice, Zeke glanced up and suddenly got it. "Oh, right, that one. Yes, I sent it. Why?" he asked, looking between his wife and Gabby.

Sharpay closed her eyes for a second and then turned back to Gabby. "Gabs, we just invited Troy to spend Christmas with us. I'm so sorry, we wouldn't have if we'd known you might be around, but we thought you were going to be in Vermont with Diego and Milla. We'd really love it if you'd come, but I guess under the circumstances we'd understand if you wanted to do something else." She sighed and thought for a moment, swirling the last of her tea in her cup. "Maybe we can sort something out. I don't know, time when Troy's not around or something..."

"Oh Shar, no, don't do that," Gabby shook her head vehemently, "It's not your fault, it's mine really for changing my plans and expecting yours not to have changed. It'll be fine. I'm sure I'll cope."

"Really?" Zeke looked concerned. "I guess I could talk to him and see if we could..."

"Guys, really, it's fine." Gabby pushed aside all the voices in her head saying that no, it was not fine, and that she couldn't seem to turn around without bumping into Troy Bolton, and went to check on the brownies as the oven timer went off.

* * *

"Chad, this guy at your office…the one who told you about this trail?"

"Yeah?"

"You're going to fire him, right?"

Chad, sitting with his back against a tree with the trail map spread out across his knees, looked up and rolled his eyes. "OK, sure, it was slightly muddier than I thought it was going to be. Honestly Baylor, when did you turn into such a woman?"

Zeke raised his eyebrows. "Putting aside for a moment that you're going to seriously regret ever saying that if Taylor ever finds out, it wasn't so much the mud as the overhanging branches and the deep holes in the path and the practically vertical rock face that we just had to scale down."

"Yeah," Ryan took a mouthful of water from the bottle in his backpack, replaced the cap and threw it in Chad's direction. "I like to think that I'm in pretty good shape, but it felt for a second like we were re-enacting the opening from Mission Impossible II back there. Is this guy at work maybe some kind of extreme sports aficionado? And why did we trust someone who uses word 'bodacious' unironically? And has anyone figured out what we're going to say to Kelsi?"

"Why do we have to decide what to say to Kels?"

Ryan shrugged. "I just thought we should probably work out a party line for when she finds out we broke her husband."

"Oh, right." Chad put the map down and looked over at Jason, who was lying flat on the path, still breathing hard, his arm draped over his eyes. "You know, I've never seen anyone do somersault whilst on a bike. It was really quite impressive, Jase, I wish I'd had my camera." He paused as Jason raised a hand in acknowledgement of the compliment, and the turned to Ryan and Zeke. "You don't think that she'd be impressed if I quoted 'If' by Rudyard Kipling?"

"What, 'You'll be a man, my son'? Doubtful." Zeke got to his feet and went to stand over his friend. "You OK, Jase?"

Jason raised himself on one elbow and grinned, removing a leaf from his hair. "Nothing a steak sandwich and a couple of beers couldn't cure."

"Good man. How about you, Hoops?" Chad looked over at Troy, who was sitting on a fallen tree a little way up the slope they had just descended. "You still got the use of your legs and everything?"

Troy tore his gaze away from the valley below them, which was bathed in afternoon sunshine. "What? Oh, yeah, two arms, two legs, check check."

Chad folded the map and went to sit on the tree next to him. "You sure you're OK, dude? You've been pretty quiet this afternoon."

"That's true," Zeke shrugged back into his jacket, "But he's only really been quiet in comparison with you."

"Yeah Chad, I didn't know people said things like 'cowabunga' any more." Jason stood up slowly, removing more leaves from his hair and pockets. "Do you still start your Saturdays with a bowl of sugary cereal in front of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?"

"Actually Jase, there haven't been reruns of TMNT since 1996..." Chad started correct his friend, but was interrupted by Ryan, who had paused in the middle of testing the front wheel of his bike and was looking thoughtfully at Troy, who had gone back to looking at the view.

"I've got it!" He dropped his bike and came up the slope to join them. "I _knew_ I recognised it; that wistful, 'staring-at-the-sunset' bit is classic Danforth, circa six months ago."

"Hey!" Taken unawares, Chad spread his hands defensively, "Wistful? I've never been wistful in my life!"

"Oh dude, that's such a lie," Zeke shook his head, "Ryan's right, we thought you were writing poetry or something."

"A guy can't look at a great view without getting grief for it? How sexist is that, Mr What-would-Taylor-say?"

"Chad, if you had been looking at the view in a way that said _What fabulous light, I wish I had my camera_, we would not be having this conversation."

"Oh really? Do elaborate, Dr Phil, I'm all ears."

Jason considered. "I guess it was really more of a _That empty valley represents for me the emptiness of my life without Taylor_ kind of thing." He dodged the backpack Chad threw at him. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger, man, you asked!"

"Well I'm glad my mental anguish provided you guys with plenty of amusement," Chad zipped is jacket up further as a cool breeze blew through the trees, pausing half way and looking up at Troy suddenly. "Hey, if that's what I...that means..."

"Only took him a few minutes. Give the boy a coconut..."

"Shut up." Chad looked for his backpack to throw at Zeke and realised he'd thrown it at Jason. Shrugging, he turned to Troy. "So, um, Hoops, you...and Gabriella?"

* * *

"Me and...Troy?"

Given the number of unorthodox ingredients involved, and the way Sharpay had gone about crafting it, ("So...pistachios, raisins, grapefruit...now don't kill me, but it needs something else...something kinda smoky or sort of char-grilled...ooh, I know, Gabs, go ask Zeke where he keeps the blowtorch...") the chicken salad had been an unprecedented success. With the plates in the dishwasher, and cups of coffee made, the girls had adjourned to the living room, where the open fire and sofas seemed like a far superior setting for the consumption of brownies. Now that Gabby was definitely going to be in town for Christmas, there were plans that needed to be made.

"On Christmas Eve," Sharpay said as she knelt in the hearth to light the fire, "I think our plan was to go into town for dinner and then go to the live Nativity which Ry is helping organise. Then on Christmas morning, I think that Zeke is planning some kind of brunch followed by dinner in the late afternoon, and we'd really love it if you could all come."

"You'll have both sets of parents with, won't you?" asked Gabby, handing out the brownies.

Sharpay nodded. "Do any of you have people staying?"

The rest of the girls shook their heads. "Jase and I are spending New Year with my parents," said Kelsi, "and his are going on a cruise over the holidays so won't be back until the middle of January."

"Chad and I went to New York for his Mom's sixtieth just before Thanksgiving, and we're probably going out to my parents for New Year so we thought a quiet, fairly family-free holiday might be a novelty," Taylor said, reaching for her coffee. "But we'd love to come to you guys on Christmas Day if that was OK."

"Absolutely." Sharpay nodded. "Come over for as much as you like."

"And do we know if Troy's definitely coming?" asked Kelsi, voicing the question that no one quite knew how to ask.

"No, not fir sure, Zeke emailed him this morning after breakfast, but they were going to talk about it over lunch." Sharpay sighed, and sat back in the sofa, looking into the steam from her coffee.

Gabby, who was sitting next to her on the sofa, patted her arm. "It's fine honey, don't worry about it."

"Speaking of Mr Folksy Charm," Taylor leant forward inquisitively, "I hear that you guys had breakfast this morning."

Gabby rolled her eyes. "You make it sound like I _invited_ him..."

"Which you...didn't?"

"No! He just..._showed up_. Well, actually, 'showed up' isn't quite accurate. 'Broke in' is more like it; he broke into my house and was waiting for me when I got back from my run."

"Be fair Gabs, he thought you might have developed flu or slipped in the shower or something." Sharpay took a mouthful of brownie. "Oh wow, these are so good."

"Thanks." Gabby waved away her praise before turning to more important matters. "He thought I had slipped in the shower? So he thought I might be naked on the bathroom floor? What exactly was he planning on doing once he'd busted into my house? And what if I'd actually been just trying to sleep in? What then?"

"I don't know, I think his chivalrous instincts took over." Sharpay smiled and took another bite of brownie.

Kelsi looked confused. "If you were that unimpressed at him, then why did he stay for breakfast?"

Gabby groaned. "I kind of accidentally smacked him in the face with my front door. Totally accidentally," she added, at the looks of horrified amusement her friends were sending her way, "I really didn't mean to do it, but after I had, it seemed a little, I don't know..."

"Unchivalrous?" suggested Sharpay with grin.

Gabby pulled a face at her. "Yeah, I guess it seemed a little unchivalrous to kick him out right away. Anyway, I'd stopped at _Felicci_ on the way home from my jog, and he hadn't had one of their almond croissants, so..." she trailed off a little, before valiantly trying to finish her sentence, "...you know, those croissants are just the best."

"So was breakfast really awkward?" asked Taylor, filling what might otherwise have been a gaping silence.

Gabby thought for a moment. "Well I'm not going to suggest he join our Sunday brunch club any time soon, but no, I guess it wasn't too dreadful. And if he's going to be around for Christmas, I suppose I should get used to having civil conversations with him that don't end with me pushing him in lakes or hitting him with doors. Plus," she said, pulling her legs up to sit cross-legged on the sofa, "we managed to stay away from the subject of GMA, which is just as well, really."

Kelsi rolled her eyes. "You're not still obsessed with this idea that he's going to waltz into Elliot's office and demand to anchor the show on his own, are you Gabs?"

"I don't feel like it's the most unlikely thing in the world, given the circumstances," Gabby said slightly defensively.

Taylor put down her coffee cup and leant forward again. "Look hon, I'm sure Kels and Shar have already said this, but the guy drove you home when you fainted in the middle of the parking lot, he left you tea and vitamins, he didn't call you every half hour to see if you were better yet, and he came round to see you and worried when he thought you might be ill. I'm not exactly sure where you're finding the evidence that he's plotting a takeover, but I feel I should tell you that he seems to be coming out of this as a pretty nice guy."

"That's what he wants you to think!" Gabby flung out an arm, almost spilling her coffee, "He's charming, sure, but give him the tiniest opportunity and he'll capitalise on it as soon as humanly possible. He may not have made anything happen out of my week off yet, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time and you know what annoys me the most though? Every step of the way, I've tried to think the best. I've tried to see the good in everything, and I've been proved drastically wrong each time. All it seems to take is a smile and a suede jacket and a box of vitamins and a few minutes of witty banter, and I start trying to convince myself that he's not going to take my job and humiliate me in front of the entire of Albuquerque!" She paused for breath, breathing hard.

Sharpay shrugged. "Your instinct might be right this time. Maybe you should give him a break, Gabs."

Gabby shook her head in confusion. "Are you kidding me? He's trying to take my show away from me and I should give _him_ a break? He's just so...so..." She trailed off, fresh out of original adjectives, and only then noticed that Sharpay was smiling. "What?" She asked, looking at her suspiciously over the rim of her coffee cup.

Sharpay looked hard at her friend, and seemed to be deciding whether to say something. Then, a note of incredulity in her voice she said, "You _like_ him, don't you?"

"Me and...Troy?"

Taken by surprise at Sharpay's question, Gabby struggled to swallow her mouthful of coffee without doing something really indelicate like spitting it down her shirt. With a choked gulp, she put down her cup, shaking her head violently. "No! Are you high? Of course I don't like him!"

"Really?"

"Really! Didn't you just hear my angry diatribe?"

"Oh no, I heard it," Sharpay nodded, "And I know you're angry with him; I'm just wondering whether you're partly angry because you can't _hate_ him."

* * *

"She hates me." Troy shrugged and got to his feet. "That's all there is to say, really."

Chad looked at his friend in disbelief. "First of all," he said, "she doesn't hate you, she merely dislikes you intensely, and don't look at me like that, there's totally a difference."

"She threw a glass of wine at me, pushed me in a lake, and hit me in the head with a door. That sound like someone capable of _liking_ me, let alone anything else?"

"It actually sounds like someone with anger issues, Troy, but that's beside the point because you're missing out, like sixty percent of the story. She threw a glass of wine at her boyfriend, who you were standing next to. She...well, yeah, she pushed you in the lake, but then she totally had your back later in the meeting, right? And the door...how is your head, by the way?"

"Better." Troy felt the slight bump on his temple gingerly. "At least she missed my nose."

"Oh yeah, that would have been pretty for Monday morning...anyway, she didn't exactly _mean_ to hit you in the head with her door. It's not like she was lying in wait for you or something, it was all a misunderstanding, right?"

"I guess so." Troy walked a couple of strides to the nearest tree, and turned, leaning up against it with an exasperated sigh. "You know, I honestly didn't think that she might have gone out for a run. When I'd seen her last, she'd looked like death very slightly warmed up, and she'd then proceeded to have the entire week off work. For all I knew, she might have been passed out on the floor."

"So you rang Zeke and Shar and got the key and went to check on her at the crack of dawn because..."

"I was concerned that she might have gotten worse since I last saw her."

"When she fainted on you and you drove her home and left her medication options."

"Right."

"And you did _that_ because..."

Troy looked around at the other guys for help, but found they had all discovered something of great importance on the back wheel of Jason's bike. He sighed again and shrugged, walking to the next tree and back. "Because otherwise she'd have hit her head on the parking lot and got a concussion?"

Chad rolled his eyes. "It's like getting blood out of a stone," he muttered, then "These are all good answers, but not the one I'm looking for. Dude, come on, you like her! Stop pacing about telling me she hates you and admit you like her!"

"I never denied it!" Troy stopped pacing. "Although given the facts, I'd say she was close to being certifiably insane, and as my friend, you'd do well to convince me not to fall for her. I've never met anyone like her before. She'd rather go to work with a raging temperature than leave me to present the show by myself. She wears scarves and matching gloves on camera. She watches Christmas movies starring frogs and bears and chickens. She folds napkins into turkeys. She threw my shoes across a parking lot. And she looks at me like _I'm_ the crazy person..." He threw his hands in the air and resumed pacing.

Chad watched him in silence for a moment, a look of confusion on his face. "Hoops, what's happened to you? This isn't the Troy Bolton I went to college with. That Troy Bolton knew what he wanted and set about achieving it. He beat out hundreds of others to get that internship in the White House Communications Office; he broke his ankle and fractured his collarbone attempting to ski jump over the Christmas break, and still aced his midterms; he sang _Mandy_ under Amanda Weintraub's dorm window after he forgot her birthday because I scored Bruce Springsteen tickets..."

"What on _earth_ possessed you to do that?" Ryan, forgetting that he and the rest of the guys weren't listening, looked up, horrified.

Troy shrugged. "Her name was Amanda, she liked Barry Manilow, it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. It didn't work though" he said, turning back to Chad, "She threw her roommate's shoe at me and then started dating that guy from my Cultural Economics and Policy class...what was his name? Wendell?"

Chad thought for a moment. "Wyatt, I think. They got married, you know, he's a congressman now. Anyway," Realising he had gone rather off-message, he pulled it back, "that's not the point. The point is, if you like her, why aren't you formulating a plan? Why aren't you dusting off your Barry Manilow songbook and figuring out how to win her over?"

"Well, you can put the Manilow away for a start," Ryan left the bikes and came back up to join them. "unless, of course, your ultimate goal is for her to push you in another lake. Besides, I don't know how you feel qualified to lecture Troy about this, Chad, we had to put up with _months_ of you sitting around looking like Dawson Leery."

"Yes, and just think how much of it might have been averted if someone had called me on it like I'm doing with Hoops here."

"You don't recall Zeke threatening you with the egg whisk, then?"

Evidently, by his shudder, Chad did recall. Troy stepped in. "Chad, don't think I don't appreciate this intervention. I mean, the _last_ thing I want is to remind anyone of that Leery kid, and I have no wish to have Baylor coming after me with kitchen implements. I just..." he paused for a second, searching for the right words, "I'm willing to admit that Gabby might not hate my breathing guts, but apart from a very few, fleeting moments, she's been pretty consistently hostile to the idea of me joining GMA. I guess I probably could have dealt with the situation more sensitively, and if I could do these two weeks again, I'd definitely have listened to her about the suit thing, but when I left her house this morning, it felt like we'd called a sort of truce. Not a _Hey, let's do lunch and share our hopes and dreams_ truce, more of an _If you were drowning, I'd go look for a life preserver_ kind of thing. It's not a dinner date, but it's a start. Thing is, I still don't think she trusts me, and until I can convince her that I'm really not the pompous city boy that she has clearly decided I am, this truce still feels kind of fragile." He went to retrieve the backpack that Chad had thrown at Jason, and handed it over as they returned to their bikes. "Unless anything changes, then, I'm not going to wade in and try and win her over, especially with Manilow serenades, as I think I have established they don't work." A minute later, bike poised at the top of the trail, he paused. "I do, however, give you all the right to show me the business end of a potato masher or your chosen kitchen implement if I start looking too introspective and angsty though, OK?"


	19. The Toothpaste Smile

**The Toothpaste Smile**

From: **iheartABQ**

_**Spotted!**_

…Albuquerque Isotope **Ty Hassett** and girlfriend, fashion designer **Sasha Harlon** were seen leaving salsa club _La Danza_ with friends early on Saturday morning. What with Ty's stunning debut season with the Isotopes, and Sasha's success at New York Fashion Week, this beautiful couple have plenty to celebrate!

…_Weekend GMA_ anchor **Jess Mansfield** was spotted having lunch at _Flor_ on Friday with architect husband **Dean**. The couple, who are expecting their second child in late February, were also seen later that day leaving _Motherhood_ with an armful of bags. Jess shared her most recent ultrasound pictures on her show last week, but is keeping mum about the sex!

…Looking rested and ready to get back to work after almost a week off sick, fellow _GMA_ star **Gabriella Montez** was spotted out and about on Sunday afternoon, meeting friends including _Lifestyle_ editor **Sharpay Evans-Baylor **for coffee, doing a little Christmas shopping and choosing a tree at the charity fair in the Old Town Plaza.

* * *

From: Gossip column _The Buzz_ in **The Albuquerque Enquirer**

_**All Change at GMA?**_

Rumours are circulating that only weeks after his first show, Troy Bolton is set to take over the reins of _Good Morning Albuquerque_ in a shuffle that will see Gabriella Montez moving on to pastures new after four years at the helm. Details of Ms Montez's plans are not known, but there have been rumours about a possible future for her in musical theatre after her highly entertaining interview with Kevin Bacon last year. Studio staff members were not available for comment, but insiders have also indicated that it may not be entirely coincidental that this change to the _GMA_ line-up comes less than a month after Gabriella's split with Studio Executive Elliot Hunter.

* * *

From: **whatsnewdukecity**

_**Love Behind the Lens**_

Over the years, _Good Morning Albuquerque_ has earned itself a reputation for covering the stories that matter from political shake-ups and industrial action to school plays and award-winning tomatoes. Until now, that is as, according to studio insiders, the biggest story this fall has been going on behind the cameras.

Viewers of Weekday _GMA_, and therefore witnesses to the sparky on-screen chemistry between its anchors will, perhaps, not be surprised to learn that Gabriella Montez met Troy Bolton long before Albuquerque did, and that their burgeoning relationship can be blamed for her recent split from Studio Executive Elliot Hunt.

On arriving in Albuquerque, sources say that one of Troy's first engagements was dinner with Gabby and her friends, which has fuelled rumours that their relationship may also have been instrumental in getting Troy the job as _GMA_'s newest anchor.

Enquiries at the studios have so far been met with stony silence, so for now, we will have to content ourselves with the award-winning show as it gears up for Christmas. As you do though, spare a thought for the members of the newly-formed fan club The Boltonites; sorry ladies, it seems he's taken!

* * *

From: **AlbuquerqueBlogger**

_**Hunter & Montez: On Again?**_

Rumours about the state of Gabriella Montez's love life are, once again, circulating after Elliot Hunter was seen on Sunday afternoon entering the courtyard of his ex-girlfriend's building with a huge bouquet of lilies.

Gabriella, who is recovering from a bout of flu, split from Elliot after he was seen having dinner at _Le Maison Bleu_ with model Christi de Tour, reportedly throwing a glass of wine at him at a recent fundraiser. This latest development, however, has set the gossip mills turning once more: is this just an attempt on Hunter's part to win back his ex, or a sign that one of Albuquerque's hottest couples are back on?

* * *

Monday morning saw _Good Morning Albuquerque_ presented from the soon-to-be-opened wing of the largest elementary school in the city. Mia, a cardboard tray containing two coffees in one hand and a clipboard under the other arm, opened the door of the classroom donated for the morning to _GMA_ cast and crew members and found Gabby sitting on a large red beanbag chair in the book corner with her lap top on her knees.

"Good news, honey!" Gabby looked up brightly as her friend entered. "Elliot and I are back together!"

Mia looked stunned. "Really?"

Gabby nodded. "Uhuh." She leant forward in her seat to accept her cup of coffee, and sat back, taking a sip. "I can see you're surprised there, Mia. I mean, I'll admit that it was kind of a surprise for me too, but I was just online and the Albuquerque Blogger says it's true so it really must be."

Mia groaned, dumping her clipboard on a nearby table and perching on the edge. "Gabs, you're not looking at those sites again, are you? Do you not remember the last time you did that? When you stumbled across a web forum dedicated to Gabriella Montez/Kevin Bacon fan fiction? Do you not recall how badly that one ended?"

Gabby pulled a face and turned her laptop round again, taking another sip of coffee. "Yeah, that wasn't so great. But it's not like I went _looking_ for it; I was doing research on iheartABQ, because they have a really cute section where kids send in their stories, and I know that the Thanksgiving story winner comes from this school. Then I sort of stumbled across a mention of me in their _Spotted_ section, and that led me to a whole lot of other stories put together by a bunch of people who, for the sake of their journalistic integrity would all clearly benefit from a half hour's round table together to get their stories straight. Here," she passed her computer over, "take a look."

Turning slightly, Mia placed the laptop next to her on the table, and scrolled through the various gossip columns Gabby had bookmarked. "Wow," she said eventually, handing it back, eyebrows raised, "I see what you mean."

"Weird, huh?" Gabby took another sip of coffee. "I had no idea my love life or lack thereof was of such great interest to the people of Albuquerque."

"You're not worried about what they're saying, though?" Mia looked a little concerned.

Gabby shook her head. "I learnt a while ago that if you're in the public eye and live a fairly uninteresting life, the press either get bored of you or they start making things up. Lately, I haven't done anything interesting enough for the _Journal_, but the gossip columns and bloggers of this world don't seem to be able to handle the fact that I'm not being photographed falling out of limos wearing no underwear or making out with members of British rock bands, so they've been forced to invent things." She shrugged. "Honestly, I'd rather not have it reported that I'm leaving _GMA_, but I'd be more worried if the news of my departure hadn't directly preceded the fact that my BFF Kevin Bacon is paving the way for me to become the next big thing on Broadway."

"So you're not back with Elliot, then I take it?" Mia raised her eyebrows at her friend over the rim of her cup.

"Er, no. Although the blog is correct in as much as he did bring me flowers on Sunday afternoon; Zeke and Shar gave me and my Christmas tree a ride home and I had just gotten in when he showed up with a massive armful of lilies and a slightly belated Get Well card. See, these tiny grains of truth, they're how these stories start. My 'close personal relationship'" She emphasised with air quotation marks, "with Kevin Bacon stems, as you know, from the mortifying interview when I tried to get him to do the _Footloose_ dance with me. Troy and I ended up at the same dinner party on his second night in town and all of a sudden he's my boyfriend and finally we can be together and he's coming with me to meet my friends. I tipped wine down Elliot's shirt at the studio cocktail party because he told me about Troy like I was going to dance about clapping, and that gets reported as payback for him cheating on me with…what's her name?" she scrolled up the page again and looked up again at Mia questioningly, "Christi de Tour?"

Mia rolled her eyes. "She's a model-slash-actress-slash-pop star who went to school here but made the cover of _Cosmo Girl_ last summer and then got a spot on _CSI: Miami_ off the back of it."

"Oh?" Gabby looked interested. "New lab tech?"

"Close, dead girl number two. She was in town over Thanksgiving because she's got her debut album coming out in the New Year, and Jess and Mario interviewed her on _Weekend GMA_."

"And Elliot took her to dinner?" Gabby asked as nonchalantly as she could, irritated that there was still a tiny part of her that hoped it wasn't true. She'd ended her relationship with Elliot because after six months, he knew little more about her than the average reader of iheartABQ, but it would cast a whole new light on matters if she discovered there'd been other reasons she'd known nothing about.

Mia, seeing this, shook her head. "I know Ted and Aaron were trying to schmooze her on behalf of the City into switching on the Christmas lights downtown, so it's possible that Elliot was invited along too, but Gabs, if he did, I'm sure he'll have had his Studio Executive hat on. Jaime told me that she heard Christi confuse Leonardo da Vinci with Leonardo diCaprio, and you saw how pained Elliot looked that time I didn't know who composed _The Four Seasons_; I just don't think there's any way that he could have spent any more time with her than absolutely necessary. Not when he had someone like you." She glanced slightly anxiously at her friend. "He did care about you, you know honey, it's just…"

"It wasn't enough." Gabby finished Mia's sentence and closed her lap top, sliding it back into its case. She smiled a little sadly. "I know he cared about me, and I wish things could have been different, but he was dating this alternate version of Gabby Montez, who liked fancy restaurants and going to the opera, and wore suits and patent leather pumps to work, and," she shrugged, "that's not me."

"You don't wear pumps?" Mia looked down in mock horror at Gabby's worn red cowboy boots, "That's the first I've heard of it!" Grinning, she got to her feet and picking up her clipboard, checking first her watch and then the schedule on the top sheet. "Jo'll be ready for you in makeup in a few minutes, hon, shall I tell her you'll be along in a second?"

"You could," Gabby stood up and started for the door, grabbing her running schedule from the pile of paper by her feet, "except I'll be standing next to you, so that might be a little confusing for her."

* * *

"So Gabby, what are your plans for the holidays?"

With only a few minutes to go until the end of the show, the team back at the studio had finished the final news and weather segment, and were in the middle of handing over to Gabby and Troy.

A little thrown by Becca's question, not by the question itself but more by the fact that she had so far managed to avoid discussing the holidays with her co-anchor, and more specifically that they might be spending Christmas Day together, Gabby hesitated slightly. "Er, well, I'm in town for Christmas, and then over the New Year, I'm going to go see my family and find out how much my little nieces have grown."

"No skiing, then?"

Gabby laughed. "I don't know why you'd ask that question with such trepidation, Bec, it's not as if I sprained my ankle last year and had to present the show for three weeks on crutches wearing a compression bandage…oh wait…yeah I did…"

"How about you, Troy?" Allie, _GMA_'s entertainment reporter joined in. "Any ritzy parties in the date planner?"

If Troy hesitated, it was for a nanosecond. Glancing at the monitor in his eye line which showed both him and Gabby as well as the team in the studio on a split screen, he smiled into the camera. "Nothing big and fancy, Allie, just dinner with friends."

"Oh, right," Allie, for whom 'nothing big and fancy' still meant a guest list and a champagne breakfast, sounded a little disappointed but concealed it well, "That sounds nice."

"Yeah, it'll be good to take some time out," Troy shifted on one foot, turning slightly and catching Gabby's eye in the process, "I'm really looking forward to it."

Gabby could have hit him. She had been informed over coffee the previous day that Troy had accepted the Baylors' invitation to dinner on Christmas Day with enthusiasm. It had only occurred to her later, when Elliot gone, leaving his massive floral tribute and heartfelt card (_Gabby, Best wishes, Elliot_), that Sharpay hadn't told her whether or not Troy knew that she was now also going to be there. She had decided to wait until they met at work before stressing about it further, but over the course of the morning, during which he had failed to mention his Christmas plans once, she had concluded that he probably didn't know, and had therefore been planning to bring it up casually in conversation after the show. And now this. Of all the ways he could have chosen to tell her that he knew they would be spending Christmas together, he decided to let her know live on air when she either had to react to it and let everyone know that she was one of the friends he was referring to, or ignore it and look like she was totally uninterested in her co-anchor's life. Which she was, of course, but Albuquerque didn't have to know that.

Behind the camera, Jon looked up from his monitor and tapped his watch. Gabby took both the hint and the way out of her tricky situation gratefully. "Well that's just about all we have time for this morning. Thank you to everyone at Everwood Elementary School for making us so welcome, and a special thank you to the competition winners for reading their stories so beautifully for us. Join us tomorrow, when we'll be looking at how the city is gearing up for the holidays in an especially festive show coming from the city's annual Christmas Craft Workshop, and then in the evening, we'll be out and about in the city, visiting no less than three of the fabulous events going on this Christmas, and reporting back on Wednesday's show. Details and links are on the website, so do come join us if you can."

"That's right, I'm looking forward to it; I'm told it's something special." Troy smiled and motioned to the teachers who were standing out of shot to let their charges come and join him. "Until then, it's goodbye from our new friends at Everwood…" he paused for the children to shout their goodbyes, "…and it's goodbye from me and Gabriella."

* * *

Three quarters of an hour later, with her bag and lap top case over her shoulders and a stack of folders in her arms, Gabby crossed the newly renovated lobby of Everwood Elementary on the way to the parking lot.

The school receptionist looked up from her computer screen with a bright smile. "Hi Miss Montez, that was a great show."

Gabby smiled back. "Oh thanks…" she checked the girl's name badge, "Gina, I'm glad you were able to see some of it, stuck out here all morning."

"Um, yeah, about that," Gina dropped her voice and looked a little furtive. "Don't tell anyone, but things are normally really quiet first thing so I kind of snuck in the back of filming for a bit." Changing the subject, she continued in normal tones, "So, are you dropping off your visitor pass?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, sure." Truth to tell, Gabby had entirely forgotten that the cast and crew had all been issued with security passes first thing that morning. Resting her lap top case on the reception desk for a moment, she transferred her armful of folders to one hip and felt in the pocket of her jeans with her free hand. Finding the pocket empty, she put down her bag as well, and tried the pocket of her jacket. "Hang on, I know I put it somewhere safe."

"Need a hand, there?" A deep voice spoke behind her as she was in the act of placing the folders on top of her lap top to make a more thorough search of her bag. Gabby, completely absorbed in finding the missing pass, jumped and spun round, flinging her papers across the polished floor of the lobby with a startled yell.

"Gahhh! What the…oh…it's _you_."

Troy smiled. "Gee, Miss Montez, you sure know how to make a guy feel welcome. Hi," He said, dropping out of his phoney Southern drawl and removing his visitor pass from the inside pocket of his jacket, "Gina, isn't it? I just thought I'd bring this back, and while I'm at it…" he bent to pick up Gabby's pass, which, dislodged from the midst of her pile of folders was now lying on the floor by his feet, glanced at the name and handed it across the desk. "Someone'll be looking for this."

Gina took the passes with a smile, apparently unaware of the looks of loathing being directed at Troy by his co-anchor, and indicated the visitor book lying open on the desk. "Thanks, Mr Bolton, now if you wouldn't mind just signing out, please."

"Sure." Troy removed a pen from his jacket pocket, levelling a devastating smile at the receptionist that could have advertised whitening toothpaste. "I'll sign for Gabriella as well, shall I?"

"Hey!" Gabby looked up indignantly from her position on the floor, where she was sorting her scattered papers into something resembling the correct order, "You can't do that! Gina, don't let him sweet talk you into bending the rules; he could be a serial killer for all you know!"

"Um," For anyone else, Gina might have enforced the rules pleading 'Health and Safety', but the Toothpaste Smile had done the trick. "Yeah, that should be fine."

"Great." Troy looked down at his co-anchor, pen poised. "Two Ls in Gabriella?"

"You know," Gabriella knelt up and placed half the stack of papers on Gina's desk. "The gallant thing would have been to let me sign my own name while you picked up the papers that you made me drop."

"Uhuh, yeah, I hear you…and that's Montez with a Z, right?"

"And they say chivalry's dead, ladies and gentlemen." Gabby rolled her eyes and got to her feet with the rest of her folders. "And on that note…" She straightened her clothes and swung the straps of her lap top and bag over her shoulders. "Gina, it's been a pleasure. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get back to the office."

The door swung to behind her, and Troy looked after her for a moment before catching Gina watching him with a look that proved his uneasy suspicion that people not only read internet blogs but believed them. He picked up his bag, and with a final minty smile, slid the visitor book back across the desk and followed Gabby out of the door.

He caught up with her sooner than he had expected to, partly because he was less laden with bags and folders, but also because she was walking with the air of someone who was trying to remember where they had parked their car.

"Do you want me to help you look?"

Gabby turned and looked at him blankly for a second.

Troy tried again. "Your car? Dark blue Honda Civic, right? It's OK, we'll split up. I'll go that way, and…"

"Troy." Gabby interrupted, her expression a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation.

"Yes?"

"I haven't forgotten where I parked my car."

"Oh. Right, I just thought, from the way you were…"

"I just remembered that I got a lift in with Mia this morning."

"Ah. Well, OK, want a lift?"

"You have a car now?"

"Yep, it's got wheels and doors and cup holders and everything."

Gabby turned on her heel, irresolute. On one hand, she didn't want to spend any more time with Troy than absolutely necessary, especially in the light of Sharpay's analysis on Saturday and the apparent inventiveness of Albuquerque's blogging community. On the other, however, the wind was icy, her shoulders were beginning to ache, and she had little desire to go and wait for Mia when it meant going back past Gina, who was in all likelihood posting a comment on whatsnewdukecity at that precise moment. She sighed. "OK, thanks. That'd be great."

* * *

Five minutes later, they were on the road. Troy, in negotiating the unexpectedly labyrinthine exit to Everwood Elementary's parking lot, had granted Gabby radio privileges with the proviso that she choose something that wouldn't cause him to pound his head on the steering wheel, and she flicked through the stations, finally stopping at one playing _Walking in Memphis_.

"Good choice."

"Thanks."

There was quiet for a few minutes as Marc Cohn sang, until Troy spoke again. "Good show, wasn't it?"

Gabby nodded, folding down the visor to keep the low winter sunshine out of her eyes. "Yeah, it was."

"I liked your interviews with the competition winners, I just…"

Gabriella stopped him. "Bolton, I should tell you right now that if you think I'm going to accept advice from the man who probably signed my name in the visitor book with a little heart over the 'i', you're delusional."

Troy grinned. "It was the 'o' in your surname that I used actually, but you were close. I was, in fact, going to say that I wish I'd done more research on the stories that won. You knew all the background and really got the kids to open up. It was…impressive."

"Oh." Gabby blinked at the unexpected compliment. "Thanks." Then, because she really didn't see how it was going to come up naturally in conversation, "So, um, I take it you've heard about my change of plans over Christmas?"

"Uhuh." Troy's eyes didn't leave the road.

For some inexplicable reason, Gabby felt the need to explain her decision. "The Baylors had invited me months ago, and I'd said no because I was going to go visit my brother, but then I realised how close to Christmas the show runs this year, and thought I'd be able to relax with my family better if I'd actually had time to wind down, so I told Shar on Saturday morning and then they told me they'd just invited you." She trailed off, realising that she was beginning to gabble.

"Because otherwise, you'd have avoided spending time with your friends so you wouldn't have to see me?" Troy's tone was even, betraying nothing about how he might have felt about that fact.

Gabby frowned. "No, that's not what I meant…" she began, realising as she did so that yes, it probably was.

Troy glanced at her and smiled. "Don't sweat it, I know that spending Christmas with me is probably not way up there on your list of Fun Holiday Activities; you just made Christmas in Albuquerque sound so interesting, I couldn't say no when Zeke asked."

Gabby tucked one leg under her and turned a little in her seat, shaking her head. "But you've said it yourself, Troy, you don't really 'do' Christmas. Why you would knowingly put yourself in amongst a group of people who not only enjoy it, but _look forward_ to it?"

"If I didn't know better Ms Montez, I'd say that you were trying to talk me out of coming." Troy looked over at her, his smile fading. "You're worried that I'm going to suck the fun out of the holidays for you, is that it? You think I might turn up with a copy of _Christmas: Popular Myths Debunked_ under my arm and proceed to give readings from it? That I might diss Zeke and Sharpay's table decorations, or refuse to go carolling?"

Gabby pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed. "Bolton, you are without a doubt the most infuriating man I have ever met! Of course I don't think that you're going to try and systematically wreck my Christmas, and nor do I think that you're going to spend the whole time telling us that the star that led the magi was a comet, or that Jesus was actually born in March. I just have problems believing that someone who, by his own admission, doesn't do Christmas and holds no traditions, would be able to spend time with a group of people who bake cookies, play pictionary, sing the odd carol and watch movies without being snarky at least once, that's all I'm saying!"

Troy opened his mouth to answer, but changed his mind as he pulled up at the Security Guard's booth outside the Studios and showed his ID badge, before entering the Studio parking lot, where a space now had _Bolton_ painted on the concrete in new yellow paint. He switched the engine off, and turned to Gabby, who took a deep breath, preparing for another debate.

"_Muppet Family Christmas_."

The somewhat unconventional opening gambit took her by surprise. "I'm sorry?"

Troy looked down at the steering wheel, which he was still holding, and then up at Gabby. "I Googled the Muppets after Ryan told me about your traditions the other week, and I realised that I had seen one of their movies. _Muppet Family Christmas_. That's the one when they all go to a farmhouse and sing carols together, right? And Kermit's worried because Miss Piggy is coming to join them but has gotten caught up in a blizzard?"

"Um," Gabby blinked, confused, "Yes?"

"I think I was about ten. I remember watching it on the TV in my parents' room when they were out."

"And…it's what turned you against Christmas?" Gabby asked, unsure where his story was going.

Troy shook his head. "No, I really enjoyed it. I remember liking how they all wanted to be together, and at the end, even the old guy, who had wanted a quiet holiday joined them and they all sang songs." He sighed, glancing across at her as if half afraid that she might be laughing at him, "It was noisy and silly and…nice."

"Oh." Gabby looked down at her hands, trying to reconfigure her mental image of her co-anchor to include a little boy, wistfully watching a Christmas movie by himself. "Well, it's one of my favourites too…" she began, but he had started speaking at the same time.

"I'm going to prove you wrong about me."

Gabby looked up with a start and found him looking at her intently for the first time since they had climbed into the car, realising a number of things all at once. First, that his pupils were slightly different colours. Second, that unlike previous occasions, where she had felt like she was back in her high school cafeteria and taking part in one of Sharpay's Stare Outs, there was no challenge in his eyes; he was just _looking_ at her. Third, that no-one, not even Elliot, had looked at her like that before, and fourth, and most disturbing of all, that she didn't mind. Worse, she didn't want him to stop. It was this final realisation that jolted Gabby out of her mini stupor, and she realised that it was her turn to say something at the same time as her mind went a total blank.

"Your eyes are different colours." She winced even as she said it, looking down at her hands. Of all the insightful and thought-provoking things she could have said, of all the ways she could have proved to her co-anchor that she was not the yokel he clearly imagined her to be, she had chosen…that. She sighed, and looked back up at him, still hoping to emerge from this bizarre conversation with some semblance of her dignity, and found him still looking at her, except now he was trying not to smile.

He had been resting one elbow on the steering wheel, his other hand on her head rest, but now he leant back in his seat, bringing them even closer. "Small talk, Montez?"

Gabby blinked, rapidly giving up hope of finding a way out of the situation that was going to make her look like less of a gawky teenager. Had he been sitting this close all the way home?

It seemed that Troy had read her mind, because he nodded, as if deciding something, and moved his hand from her head rest to the edge of the seat just above her shoulder. Gabby swallowed hard. Less than half an hour ago, in fact, make that ten minutes, she would cheerfully have smacked him in the face with her front door again should the opportunity have presented itself. She hadn't been exaggerating before; he really was the most infuriating man she had ever met, so why did it feel like he might be about to kiss her, and why, given all the things she'd just decided about him had her head decided that she wouldn't mind if he did? For a minute, it looked like he might have been about to lean closer, but he changed his mind at the last minute and sat up, removing his hand from her seat. He smiled again, properly this time, a flash of the Troy Bolton who had charmed Gina back at Everwood Elementary, and opened the car door, looking back over his shoulder. "I _am_ going to prove you wrong, Gabby."

And with that, he got out and went round to the trunk, rapping on her window a second later, laden down with her bags. "Time is money, Montez, no time to sit about…" With another Toothpaste Smile, he turned on his heel and made his way to the Studio entrance, leaving her with no choice but to climb out of the car and follow him.

* * *

_Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing so faithfully for all this time; I really, really appreciate it. Special thanks is due to my sister, who has steered me away from many a bad plot decision, and who wants to see more Ryan. I shall see what I can do, Mo._


	20. Bolton Gets Crafty: Part One

**Bolton Gets Crafty: Part One**

**[the one with the elves]**

**From:** Chad Danforth

**To:** Troy Bolton; Zeke Baylor; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans; Sharpay Evans-Baylor; Kelsi Cross; Taylor McKessie; Gabriella Montez

**Subject:** Can't talk, threading popcorn

Despite what many of you may have heard from my girlfriend, I was categorically NOT re-enacting scenes from _Cliffhanger_ when I somewhat wrenched my shoulder rock climbing this weekend, I was reaching to unhook my rope and slipped. It's really not that bad except I can't actually put my jacket on unaided and…well, moving kind of hurts. Anyway, the doctor says I'll be fine if I take it easy for a couple days so I have been working from home which means that I have been able to watch _GMA_ for the first time in years.

Wow. I mean…wow.

I'm sorry Gabs, I know that you've been presenting the show for almost as long as I've known you and I've watched maybe six episodes in our entire acquaintance, but I can't say that I was able to pay much attention to what you were saying this morning because I was transfixed by the Christmas Craft-related musings of Troy 'Martha Stewart' Bolton. So much comedy potential, so little time…

All I can say is…thank you Troy. Thank you for your thoughts and thank you for the magic of Christmas.

I shall be posting some thoughts on GMA's website, and if there's not a picture in tomorrow's _Albuquerque Journal_ of Bolton holding that dried chilli and pinecone wreath under the headline _Bolton Gets Crafty This Christmas_, I shall want to know the reason why.

Laters,

C

Troy Bolton's Crafty Christmas Quote #1

_So you can use the raffia to tie _bows_ as well? That's fascinating, Caroline…_

* * *

**From:** Jason Cross

**To:** Troy Bolton; Zeke Baylor; Chad Danforth; Ryan Evans; Sharpay Evans-Baylor; Kelsi Cross; Taylor McKessie; Gabriella Montez

**Subject:** re: Can't talk, threading popcorn

Really? That good?

Damn you, Parent Teacher Conference…

Jase

* * *

**From:** Chad Danforth

**To:** Troy Bolton; Zeke Baylor; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans; Sharpay Evans-Baylor; Kelsi Cross; Taylor McKessie; Gabriella Montez

**Subject:** re: re: Can't talk, threading popcorn

Seriously, Jase. That good. I learnt so much. Do episodes of _GMA_ get repeated, Gabs?

I'm totally getting a TV for my office.

C

Troy Bolton's Crafty Christmas Quote #2

_You're absolutely right, I think this one needs a blue ribbon._

* * *

**From:** Ryan Evans

**To:** Troy Bolton; Zeke Baylor; Jason Cross; Taylor McKessie; Sharpay Evans-Baylor; Kelsi Cross; Chad Danforth; Gabriella Montez

**Subject:** re: re: re: Can't talk, threading popcorn

I just checked the _GMA_ website, and clips from this morning's show are already up.

Sorry Troy, I wasn't going to watch it, but there was a picture of you holding a massive pinecone and looking confused. I had to know more…

Ryan

* * *

**From:** Chad Danforth

**To:** Troy Bolton; Zeke Baylor; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans; Sharpay Evans-Baylor; Kelsi Cross; Taylor McKessie; Gabriella Montez

**Subject:** WHAT?

You can watch it on the WEBSITE? Why didn't I think of that?

Wait, I'll go check it out…

…Oh yeah, it's better than I remembered. Guys, you've got to see it. Seriously. That picture of Hoops with the pinecone is now my Mac's wallpaper.

C

Troy Bolton's Crafty Christmas Quote #3

_So Sylvia, what _is_ macramé exactly?_

* * *

**From:** Troy Bolton

**To:** Chad Danforth; Zeke Baylor; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans; Sharpay Evans-Baylor; Kelsi Cross; Taylor McKessie; Gabriella Montez

**Subject:** re: WHAT?

For one thing, Danforth, macramé was never mentioned. Sylvia, a sweet old lady with thirteen grandchildren, was showing me the extensive range of _appliquéd_ Christmas sweaters she makes, which she sells in a number of different outlets across the city over the Holiday season, donating almost her entire profit to THE HOMELESS.

Don't feel bad, or anything.

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you for your support. It really means a lot. I hope to be able to return the favour some day.

Sleep with one eye open, that's all I'm saying.

T

* * *

**From:** Sharpay Evans-Baylor

**To:** Chad Danforth; Zeke Baylor; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans; Troy Bolton; Kelsi Cross; Taylor McKessie; Gabriella Montez

**Subject:** re: WHAT?

It doesn't come as a massive shock to me that you didn't realise you could watch _GMA_ on the web, Chad. You are quite the TechnoPhobe. You nearly threw your TiVo out of the window when it didn't work instantly the second you plugged it in, which is why, if you recall, Taylor and I threw you out of your own apartment and programmed it for you.

Also, you can't fool me. Don't take it out on Troy because you fell down while you were pretending to be Sly Stallone and have to get Taylor to open the new box of Cheerios for you.

Kisses!

S xx

* * *

**From:** Chad Danforth

**To:** Troy Bolton; Zeke Baylor; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans; Sharpay Evans-Baylor; Kelsi Cross; Taylor McKessie; Gabriella Montez

**Subject:** re: re: WHAT?

I'd totally forgotten you and T did that, I've been wondering why it keeps recording British period dramas and _America's Next Top Model_ for me.

Right, well, I'm sure this is how you slackers like to roll, but I'm going to get on with some actual work. I have a video conference in ten minutes.

Laters,

C

Troy Bolton's Crafty Christmas Quote #4

_And this garland is made from…dried chillies, pinecones and cranberries? How innovative!_

**

* * *

**

From:

Taylor McKessie

**To:** Sharpay Evans-Baylor; Kelsi Cross

**Subject:** Gabby

Has anyone heard from Gabs? If not, would one of you mind checking on her to make sure my boyfriend hasn't offended her by mocking her TV show? I say 'one of you', I really mean you, Shar, as I don't think Kels normally gets much in the way of time to check her emails during the day. I'd do it myself except I'm on my way out the door for a meeting with my team, and I'll never live it down if I'm late. I gave them a speech about punctuality last week, and then forgot we'd changed the time of the next meeting and showed up half an hour late. My reputation is consequently hanging by a thread as it is.

Speak to both you later,

T xx

* * *

**From:** Sharpay Evans-Baylor

**To:** Taylor McKessie; Kelsi Cross

**Subject:** re: Gabby

I'm on it.

* * *

**From:** Sharpay Evans-Baylor

**To:** Gabriella Montez

**Subject:** Just checking

Hon, I had just noticed that you hadn't responded to any of the emails that have been circulating today, and then got an email from T basically saying the same thing. I know that she and Z and Kels haven't either, but I just wanted to check that you hadn't because you're too busy and not because you're upset or totally offended by Chad. You know he's compensating for the fact that his arm's in a sling and he can't get off the sofa without wincing, right?

Troy did get particularly _into_ today's show though, didn't he? I didn't imagine that, did I?

I know you're going to be really busy this evening, so wondered if you'd like to meet for lunch. The calm before the storm, or something.

I'm going to phone Chad's landline now and leave an inappropriate message on his answer phone and hope they can hear it on the video conference. Or do you want me to wait until you get here?

S xxxx

* * *

**From:** Gabriella Montez

**To:** Sharpay Evans-Baylor

**Subject:** You're sweet

Thanks for checking on me, Shar, but I'm fine. Really. I know Chad's not serious, and that he actually does feel bad that he never manages to watch the show. I'd also be lying if I said that a certain amount of light Bolton-mocking is something that I'm going to frown on. I'm sorry, I know that's childish in the extreme, but he seems to bring the worst out in me.

Having said that, I will say that he has been making a real effort lately to fit in with the show as opposed to imposing his style on us, and he really is very good with people. Chad's quotes were right on the money (apart from the macramé/appliqué debacle), but some of the people we were talking to, the older ladies especially, were really uncomfortable with the idea of being on TV, and by making them feel that they were teaching something valuable to a nice young man, Troy was able to get a much better interview.

You're right though, he did get really into it. I think maybe what made it most obvious was the fact that I think he was being genuine. I know I don't know him very well, but anyone who saw him attend the opening of the Winnie the Pooh theme bar for adults should be able to see a difference between his interview with the waiter in the Kanga suit, and his conversation today with the lady who taught him to make a luminaria. The thing is though, while he was undoubtedly interested in everything, he was reacting like I do when I'm watching the Discovery Channel. You know, those documentaries about tribes in the Amazonian rain forests or the Himalayas, the ones where you go "Wow, look at how those people live, isn't that extraordinary?" It's almost like he has never been involved in getting ready for Christmas. He says things like "Threading popcorn? What a brilliant idea!" and I want to beat him about the head with my running schedule.

Of course, I don't, because that would be unprofessional.

Lunch would be great, but feel free to go ahead with the message-leaving. You don't want to miss your window of opportunity.

Ring you in ten?

G xx

* * *

**From:** Sharpay Evans-Baylor

**To:** Kelsi Cross; Taylor McKessie

**Subject:** That fine line between hate and…

Well, I checked with her and she's fine. Not that I really thought she'd be upset; Chad's like her big brother.

Interestingly, almost her entire email was about Troy, and it included none of the following words: incompetent, hate, loathe, yokel, smug, loser or idiot. I read it three times to check.

Not only that, but she actually said, and I quote: "I will say that he has been making a real effort lately to fit in with the show as opposed to imposing his style on us, and he really is very good with people". And she referred to him as "nice". Of course, she then said that she'd like to beat him about the head with her clipboard, but still. Nice. NICE!

The plot thickens.

Got to go, she's coming over for lunch and I have to go practice my _Gabby called Troy 'nice' and this is in no way an interesting development_ face in the bathroom mirror.

S xxxx

* * *

"Ms Montez?"

"Hang on, Jon." Gabby paused in her cell phone conversation, and turning, smiled down at the little girl in the Santa hat standing in front of her. "Hi honey, are you having fun this evening?"

The girl nodded, making the pieces of tinsel on the ends of her plaits dance. "Yes thank you, I saw the monkeys at the zoo and I've been to see Santa and now we've come here to the gardens and I've put a decoration on the big tree and I've had a cookie and can I have your autograph?" She said in one breath.

"Selena!" A girl in her early teens that Gabby surmised to be an elder sister ran up, breathless and apologetic. "I'm so sorry, Ms Montez, I only took my eye off her for, like, a second! Selena," She turned to her sister, "you can't just go up to people and start talking like that, Ms Montez is on the phone."

Gabby smiled reassuringly at the girls. "That's OK, it's fine. Wait a second you two, Selena, don't go away." She put the phone back to her ear. "Jon? There's a young lady here who would like my autograph so I'm going to go…uhuh…yeah…that's right, we're still at the Botanic Gardens and we're basically done with the filming here, but Tom and the guys are staying on for another hour and half or so to get more footage and they'll meet us in the Old Town at about nine…OK then…yes, I'll tell them…OK, bye." She slid her cell back into her pocket and turned back to the girls standing in front of her. "Right, now then, where were we? Oh yes," she sat down on a nearby bench, bringing her eyes level with her young fan, "you said something about an autograph, right?"

The girl nodded vehemently, a slightly worried look crossing her face, "But I don't have anything for you to sign."

Gabby reached for her bag and started rummaging through it. "Well now, I wonder if I have anything. You know, the people at the studio, they gave me some pictures of me to keep in my bag just in case young ladies like you asked for my autograph, and do you know what I've done?" Her young audience shook their heads. "I think I've left them on the desk in my office. That was pretty dumb, huh?"

Selena was brave enough to ask for an autograph, but apparently not prepared to call one of the most recognisable faces in Albuquerque dumb. She shook her head, and Gabby smiled, remembering for what felt like the thousandth time exactly why she loved her job so much. She went back to looking through her bag. "Just for that, Selena, I shall try and find something extra special to sign for you. Aha!" She pulled out a blank Christmas card from the stack she had been writing earlier in the day, wrote in it, and handed it to the little girl. "There you go sweetie, Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" The girls chorused together, and made their way off into the crowd, Selena clutching her Christmas card to her chest like it was her most treasured possession.

Gabby watched them go, then checked her watch and felt in her jacket pocket for her cell. Pulling it out, she dialled a number and waited to hear a dial tone, only to hear the strains of Barry Manilow's _Mandy_ playing somewhere behind her. Turning in her seat, she saw her co-anchor approaching, two cups in his hands and a murderous expression on his face.

"_Manilow_, Bolton?"

Troy sat down next to her, placing the cups between them, and reached for his cell, shaking his head. "_Danforth_. It's almost as if he _knew_ that I'd have my hands full at that precise moment. Hot chocolate?" He waved his hand in the direction of the cups. "It smelt really good and I needed something to warm my hands up."

"Oh," Gabby was taken aback. "Um, thank you." She picked up one of the steaming cups, took a sip and then glanced at Troy. "So why do you suspect Chad?"

"Other than the faux innocent expression he was wearing when I got back from the bathroom at lunch today? Trust me, it's Danforth."

"Your phone rang earlier though, didn't it? I don't remember hearing _Mandy_ back then."

Troy looked up from where he was rectifying his so-called-friend's handiwork. "Er, no, that would be because it was your personal ring tone."

Gabby looked confused. "So it would only play when _I_ rang you? Why would Chad pick that song? He knows I can't stand Barry Manilow."

"Oh, you know Chad…" said Troy vaguely, looking approvingly at her for a second before snapping his cell shut and lacing his fingers round the remaining cup of hot chocolate. "Does he ever need a reason?"

To Troy's relief, this explanation, sketchy at best, appeared to be sufficient for Gabriella. "Yes, I suppose you're right," she said thoughtfully, "I never did quite understand, for example, why he appears to be partially fluent in both Mandarin and Japanese."

"Oh I know the answer to _that_," Troy sat back comfortably on the bench. "I'm sure if you asked him today, he'd tell you something about emerging markets in the East and how at college he deemed it prudent to get ahead of the curve and become proficient in communicating with as many people around the globe as possible, but in actual fact, he had a massive crush on one of the tutors at the Georgetown Language School and a hatred of reading subtitles in martial arts movies."

"So he was not so much motivated by a desire to further his career as he was by…"

"A pretty girl and Bruce Lee? Yep." Troy grinned at his co-anchor. "And you should feel free to use that information in any way you see fit, especially in the light of his emails this morning."

Gabby nodded reassuringly. "Oh trust me, I will."

"You know," said Troy, his mind obviously wandering back to the varied and plentiful weirdness of his former roommate, "the one I never figured out was why he played a season on the White House Press Corps basketball team in his second year at college."

"Um, was he…"

"A member of the White House Press Corps?" Troy raised an eyebrow. "For what? _GQ_?" Gabby almost choked on her hot chocolate and he continued with another grin. "No, I was doing an internship in the White House Communications Office, and he got talking with a couple of guys in a bar in Georgetown when he came to meet me after work. Next thing I knew, he was calling me up to tell me that he and the guys had just shown the Vice President's staff who was boss." He shook his head as if still bemused by the memory, and changed the subject. "So, what's next on the agenda? Is…er…" he looked around conspiratorially to make sure no children were around, "_Santa_ going to be making an appearance at this event too?"

It was as well that Gabby had only raised her cup to her lips, because it would have been the second time in less than a minute that she'd nearly spat hot chocolate down her front. The first on their schedule of Christmas events had been earlier that afternoon at the Albuquerque Zoo, where the arrival of Santa was always a highlight of the annual Christmas Tea Party. In previous years, Santa had arrived in a sleigh pulled by reindeer but this year, the events team had pulled out all the stops and _The Serengeti Steamway_, the little train that took visitors around the zoo, had been transformed into _The Polar Express_, arriving with a jingle of bells and a tasteful swirl of dry ice to the rapturous applause of the hundreds of children who counted this event as the beginning of their Christmas countdown. Rex Reddington, who, as Santa, had listened to the Christmas requests of Albuquerquian children for the last twenty-two years put in such a good performance that even Troy, who had up until that point been wearing what Gabby was beginning to call his Discovery Channel Face, finally seemed to get it and conducted an extremely sweet set of interviews with children in the queue to meet Santa, culminating in a brief meet-and-greet with the man himself.

If that had been the extent of the event, if Santa had arrived on _The Polar Express_ unaccompanied, Gabby believed that a _Miracle on 34__th__ Street_-style turnaround for Troy on the Christmas issue might have been possible. Unfortunately, while Rex's attitude to his job reminded some of a successful Presidential candidate taking the oath of office for the first time, his elves were another matter entirely. Traditionally cast from the drama departments of local high schools, they were responsible for handing out gifts, doing a little light crowd control and generally spreading Christmas cheer, and in previous years had behaved impeccably. This, however, was before an extremely attractive man had been hired to co-anchor _Good Morning Albuquerque_ with Gabriella Montez who, though undeniably attractive, did not have the requisite qualities to throw a group of teenage girls in candy-striped tights and green velvet mini dresses into a frenzy that could be charitably termed 'Christmas cheer' but more resembled the front row of a Justin Timberlake concert. Gabby was prepared to accept, or even encourage a certain amount of discomfort inflicted on her co-anchor, but when a particularly confident elf had draped herself over the back of his chair, shared with him that she was the President and founder of the East High Troy Bolton Fan Club and asked him to sign her bra strap, Gabby had finally stepped in. Discomfort was one thing, but intense anguish was quite another.

She bit back a smile as a shadow of the latter crossed Troy's face again, and shook her head. "No, you're done with Santa and his helpers, Bolton, you can rest easy. Sometimes Rex drops by this event, but nothing planned and certainly nothing involving elves." She laughed at his great sigh of relief and shrugged. "I don't know, I guess…" she stopped.

"You guess what?"

Gabby paused. She had been about to say that he'd have to get used to girls draping themselves over him, but suddenly realised that in saying this, she was implying that _she_ found him attractive, that she understood why Courtney, or whatever her name was had founded a fan club, produced a glitter gel pen and asked for his autograph. A week ago, the idea would have been so absurd that she'd have said it anyway, but now…She shrugged again. "I was only going to say that I don't remember the elves being this sexy when Sharpay was doing it."

Troy raised his eyebrows. "Sharpay was an elf?"

Gabby laughed. "Are you kidding me? She was Head Elf for three years running."

"Head Elf? For three years? She must have been good."

"Oh yeah, I think it's still on her CV, actually."

"And were you ever…I mean, did you…" Troy trailed off slightly awkwardly.

She'd been wondering if he was going to ask the question, but was still a little taken aback when he did. "Was I ever an elf? Um, no. Drama wasn't really my thing at high school."

"Fair enough." Troy gave her a sideways glance. "So, on to the Old Town now, right?"

Gabby nodded, grateful for the abrupt change of subject. "Tom and the guys are staying on for a bit to make sure they have enough footage to make Jon happy, so I told them that we'd meet them there at about nine."

They got to their feet and started making their way through the crowds at the Botanic Gardens in the direction of the exit. Gabby took her cell from her pocket with the idea of ringing Estella to see if there was a spare table for her at _Flor_, when Troy spoke again. "Maybe along the way you could point me in the direction of somewhere I can grab a sandwich or something? I only just realised how long it seems since Danforth violated my privacy over lunch."

Gabby hesitated. Ever since Sharpay's assessment of the situation at the weekend, she had become increasingly aware of her behaviour towards her co-anchor. Of course, Sharpay was wrong; the idea of her and Bolton being anything other than colleagues who happened to part of the same social group was ridiculous, but all the same, she couldn't help admitting to herself that she didn't treat him like any other of her colleagues. Had anyone else at _GMA_ said exactly what Troy just had, she would have invited them to dinner with her without a second's thought. The fact that she hadn't immediately suggested that he join her meant one of two things. One, that she genuinely disliked him so much that sitting opposite him at a restaurant table for an hour or so was simply not an idea she was willing to consider; Two, that she actually wouldn't mind having dinner with him but that she didn't want people to think she had changed her original opinion of him, thereby possibly proving Sharpay right. She had a feeling that she knew full well which of these two options was correct. It was therefore with an inner sigh of resignation and a mental note to kick Sharpay when they next met that Gabby turned to Troy and said "Actually Troy, I was just about to ring _Flor_ and see if they have a table free now. Want to join me?"

Troy's face registered complete surprise for the merest fraction of a second before he nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great, thanks. Zeke's been telling me how great that place is but I've not managed to eat there yet." He paused for a sip of hot chocolate before continuing. "I guess we could go over our notes for the event in the Old Town while we eat."

Gabby smiled. "You can try and talk business while eating Cris' food, Troy, but in my experience it's very nearly impossible. Elliot held a lunch time strategy meeting there once, and we didn't actually start looking at our notes until our coffee arrived at the end."

"Now _that_ sounds like my idea of a business lunch." Troy grinned down at her as they walked. "Oh, and by the way," he waved the hand containing his cup of hot chocolate, "What's in this stuff? I've never tasted hot chocolate quite like it."

Gabby felt suddenly as if the weight of the last few weeks had lessened, but more than that, she didn't care why. She skipped forward a couple of paces, turning so she walked backwards in front of her co-anchor, and spread her arms expansively. "Christmas!"

Troy raised an eyebrow and looked left to right where a few people were looking at them curiously. "Christmas."

"That's right."

"The added ingredient is Christmas."

"Yep."

"Not, I don't know, cinnamon or something?"

"Nope." Gabby shook her head and spun on her heel so she was walking in the right direction again.

Troy sighed. "I suppose there's a dash of Festive Good Cheer in there too."

Gabby smiled. "You're catching on, Bolton, I'll give you that."

* * *

**Um, hello. It's been a while, and for that, I most unreservedly apologise. Not that I want to shift the blame, but let's all blame writer's block, as well as the people who expect me to provide them with administrative support during the week, the global banking crisis, the fact that Frazer Yeats is no longer on _Neighbours_ and the many, many weddings I have attended this summer.**

**I don't want to get all smooshy about this, but I really seriously appreciate all of you who have stuck with me for such a long time, especially those of you who have reviewed or sent me lovely messages. All of your support is very much appreciated, and this chapter would not have happened without you.**

**_Bolton Gets Crafty_ started out as a normal length, and then got progressively longer to the point where it was over 10,000 words long, and I couldn't face posting it in one long piece as I feared the miniscule size of the scroll bar would put people off. For this reason, I have chopped it into two chapters of (almost) equal length, this being the first.**

**As ever, thanks is due to the people who read these chapters before they gets posted, especially my sister, for all her encouragement (which generally takes the form of hanging over my shoulder shouting "WRIIIIIIIITE!" every few minutes). I couldn't do it without you, Mo.**


	21. Bolton Gets Crafty: Part Two

**Bolton Gets Crafty: Part Two**

**[the one with the peppermint eggnog]**

"So I was thinking…Troy? TROY!"

Troy looked up slightly dreamily from his plate of beef ragù and hand-rolled tagliarini. "Hmm, what was that?"

Gabriella raised an eyebrow and motioned to the files that had sat untouched on the corner of the table ever since the waiter had brought them the bread basket. "Want to go through your notes now?"

"The fact that you _ever_ got round to doing work in this place is remarkable to me." He sat back and looked round the bustling restaurant, and then back at his plate somewhat disbelievingly. "I think this might be the best pasta I've ever eaten."

Gabby shrugged. "I told you Cris was good."

"No, you don't understand," Troy shook his head. "The last time I ate pasta anywhere near this good I was in Rome…"

"They have MacDonalds in Rome too you know, it doesn't mean that…"

"…at the Vatican."

Gabby put down her glass. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Well, the Museum, actually."

"You had dinner at the Vatican Museum?"

Troy looked suddenly uncomfortable, as if what he had said was suddenly occurring to him. "Er, yes. My parents are supporters of the arts."

Gabby looked hard at him for a moment. "Supporters."

"Uhuh."

"Troy, my brother Diego has been a supporter of the Red Sox since we went to stay with our grandparents in Boston one summer. Grandpa took us to one game, and by the end of it, D had the starting pitchers more or less memorised. That Christmas, Mom and Dad gave him a Red Sox jersey and he wore it until it went into holes at which point he bought a new one and wore that one out. He says that he went to Harvard Medical School because it's one of the best schools in the country, but the fact that he attended almost all of the home games at Fenway Park would seem to suggest that he had an ulterior motive. He met his girlfriend Milla at a Red Sox game, he proposed to her at a Red Sox game, and I feel sure that my new nieces would have been named after prominent ex-players had they both not had the extreme good fortune to be girls."

Troy took advantage of his dinner companion pausing for a sip of water, and interrupted, leaning his elbows on the table. "Not that I don't appreciate the potted history of your brother's love affair with baseball, Gabby, but…"

Gabby narrowed her eyes. "Get to the point? My point, Bolton, is that my brother is one of the biggest supporters of the Red Sox I have met, and yet he has never been invited to…"

"Dinner at the Vatican?" Troy put in. "OK, sure, they're maybe not so much supporters as…I guess you could call them patrons."

"Patrons. Of the Vatican Museum." Gabby shook her head with a bewildered smile. "And when was this now-surpassed pasta served to you?"

"I was fourteen."

"And the Pope? Was he there? Did you get to meet the Pope?"

She was teasing, but Troy had clearly decided that honesty was the best policy where this episode of his life was concerned. "No, the Pope wasn't there, but I did sit next to the Italian Minister of Health."

"And did he introduce himself to you? Or were you wearing name badges?"

Troy watched her laugh at her own joke with a mixture of amusement and pity. "I didn't need a name badge to know who he was; he's my godfather and we were staying at his palazzo."

Gabby stopped laughing. "Oh."

"Yeah," Troy reached for the water jug, "I was one of _those_ kids."

Gabby watched him refill his glass and take a sip in silence before speaking again. "What do you mean 'one of _those_ kids'?"

"The kind who spend their summers staying in palazzos with high-ranking Italian politicians?"

"Oh. Right. Thanks, you've cleared that one right up."

"I mean the kind who don't discover until they're fifteen that most people own one house, not four." Troy waved his fork for emphasis, elaborating on his point. "The kind you always secretly imagine got into a really good school because Daddy made a call. The kind whose first friend without a trust fund is their college room mate."

"Wow. Really?"

"Really."

Gabby raised her eyebrows but said nothing, a forkful of gnocchi and wild mushrooms uneaten in her hand. Her co-anchor was by no means the first person she had met from a privileged background, but generally they gave her more to go on when it came to knowing how to respond. Elliot had been unapologetically proud of his family's stature and power, while Jason, whose family owned half of his home town in Alabama, found the whole issue excruciatingly embarrassing and told people about it on a strictly need-to-know basis. Troy seemed neither proud nor embarrassed. It was almost, Gabby realised, as if he was so used to people reacting in a certain way to the news about his family and his upbringing that he had given up trying to shape their response.

"That must have been…lonely." She hadn't decided what she was going to say to him until the words were half out of her mouth, by which point it was really too late to take them back.

Troy paused, a mirror image of her with a loaded forkful poised somewhere near his mouth. He put it down again and looked over at her. "I'm sorry?" he said, quietly.

"Oh, um, I…" It occurred to Gabby just then that maybe she was wrong; maybe the childhood spent in the best schools and summering in Roman palazzos had been the happiest years of his life; maybe she had mistaken the _sadness_ which had seemed for a second to flit across his face. "I only meant that if you were an only child, then going on holiday to Rome with your parents could be pretty lonely…" she trailed off awkwardly as he continued to stare at her.

"Look. Troy." She said finally, as the silence extended for what felt like another ten minutes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to presume anything about you or…"

"You're absolutely right."

"…your family and I…wait…what?"

Troy smiled. "You heard me."

It was unfortunate, Gabby decided, that the realisation that she _got_ Troy Bolton came to her at the precise moment as the realisation that his smile, his real smile, made him one of the most attractive men she'd ever seen.

What felt to her like another fifteen minutes of awkward silence was finally broken by a small girl in a red hat with a matching coat trailing behind her, who came running across the restaurant and launched herself at Gabby.

Troy leapt to his feet as the empty bread basket went flying, along with a side plate, his folder of notes and a glass of water which was thankfully less than half full. By the time the girl's mother had made her way across from the bar, he had soaked up most of the excess with both his and Gabby's napkins and was back in his chair watching in amusement as Tia knelt up on her godmother's lap, playing with her necklace and chatting unintelligibly in a high-pitched little voice.

"Tia! Oh I am _so_ sorry, really, let me…oh Gabs…thank _goodness_." Estella bent to kiss her friend, who was prevented from getting to her feet for obvious reasons. "I thought it might be one of our" she lowered her voice conspiratorially, "_cranky_ regulars and then I'd have had to turn on the sparkling hostess routine and you know how I much I love that." She pulled up a chair from a nearby vacant table and peered around Gabby's shoulder at her daughter. "Tia, you monkey, you mustn't run off like that. Even if you do spot Aunty Gabby, you must wait for me; you nearly gave me a heart attack." She turned her attention to her friend. "I turned round to hang my coat up and next thing I heard was that crash. Did anything break?"

Gabby opened her mouth to answer, but Troy got there first. "No, I caught the plate before it fell and the glass only tipped over. There are a couple of wet napkins here, but no damage done."

Estella turned to him, apparently only now noticing that Gabby had been eating dinner with someone, and her expression went from politely interested to frankly disbelieving to determinedly cool about the situation in less than three seconds.

"Troy, isn't it?" She leant across the table to shake him by the hand. "Hi, I'm Stella and the kid who nearly overturned your table," Here she removed her daughter's hat and ruffled her hair, "is Tia."

"Stella of _I'll just ring Stella and see if she's got a table for us_ fame?" Troy shook her hand with a smile.

She laughed. "That's me. Welcome to _Flor_. Have you eaten here before?"

Troy shook his head. "No, but this will be by no means the last time." he gestured to his now empty plate, "That pasta was amazing. Really, really good."

"And Troy should know, Stel," put in Gabby, "the last time he had pasta this good was…"

"…a long time ago." Troy interrupted, giving his co-anchor a look and continued. "I haven't had pasta that good for years. Please send my compliments to the chef."

"I can do better than that." Estella grinned over Troy's shoulder at her husband as he came through the door from the kitchen and made his way over to their table, wiping his recently washed hands on the towel tucked into his apron. "Honey, I have one satisfied customer here wishing to compliment you on your pasta…oh no sweetie, wait for Daddy…" She made an ineffectual grab as Tia scrambled off Gabby's lap and dashed between the tables, cannoning into her Father's legs.

Cris staggered under the sudden weight of a three year old clinging like a spider monkey to his knees, but regained his balance and made it to the table without any further incident. Sitting down in the chair proffered by Gabby and gathering his wriggling daughter onto his lap, he smiled round the table and turned to his wife. "What was that, Stel? Someone here wants to praise my cook smarts? Well it can't be Tia here because she currently despises any food that's not white with the inexplicable exception of broccoli, and it can't be Montez because she got bored of complimenting my cooking around tenth grade…"

"Hey!" Gabby interrupted indignantly, "I compliment you plenty, Flores, you take that back."

Cris grinned at his friend and turned his attention to Troy. "So I guess that only leaves you. Unless my wife was talking about herself in the third person, that is. I'm Cris, by the way," he added as an afterthought, "but you probably knew that already."

"I guessed." Troy laughed and leant over to shake Cris' hand, introducing himself. "Troy. And you're right, it was me wanting to compliment the chef; I've eaten in some pretty fancy places in my time, and none of them made a pasta dish half as good as that beef ragù."

Cris sat back in his chair and looked round the table over the top of his daughter's head. "I like this guy," he said to no one in particular, and then, turning back to Troy "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name. I collect happy customers so that I have something to dwell on when someone sends their risotto back because they don't like rice."

Troy laughed. "Far be it from me to deny you your mental ammunition against rice-haters. It's Troy. Troy Bolton."

"Well Troy, I would like to thank you on behalf of the _Fl_…wait a minute. Troy. Troy BOLTON?" Cris suddenly sat bolt upright as he finally made the connection and looked in disbelief from Gabby to Estella, from Estella to Troy and from Troy back to Gabby. "_GMA Troy Bolton_? Wait…are you…I mean you _are_…but I thought…I mean…" He trailed off, caught Gabby's eye and winced. "Oh man."

There was a tense silence during which no one quite seemed to know what to say, broken finally by Estella, who patted her stricken husband's hand. "Damn, Flores, that was smooth."

"Troy?" Tia, totally unaware of the awkwardness at the table, looked up from where she had been rearranging the cutlery and making ticking noises like the crocodile from _Peter Pan_ under her breath. "Your name is _T-T-T-_Troy?"

Troy gave an almost audible sigh of relief at the distraction and turned his attention to the little girl. "It is. Do you know what letter 'Troy' starts with?"

She nodded, and resumed her impression of a clock. "_T-T-T-T-T_."

"That's right. You know, there's one other person at this table who has a name starting with a T. Do you know who it is?"

Tia thought for a minute, then beamed at him and pointed to herself. "_T-T-T-_Tia!" she said triumphantly.

Her mother smiled proudly. "She learnt to read her name the other day and since then, we've been spotting T's everywhere we go, haven't we, sweetie?"

Tia nodded importantly and smiled at Troy, who reacted in a way in that was sure to gladden the heart of any proud parent. "You can _read_ your _name_?" he asked in tones of shocked awe.

The little girl looked delighted. "Yes. And I can draw a T too. Shall I show you?"

"Absolutely." Troy took a piece of paper from his folder, and was about to push it across the table to her when she slid off Cris' knee and went to stand next to him, looking up at him expectantly. "Oh," he said, somewhat taken aback, "would you, um, like to sit with me?"

She answered him by climbing onto his lap, taking the pen he produced from inside the folder and setting to work.

As the two of them began to chat companionably, Estella and Cris stared at Gabby in bemusement before exchanging looks. Quite apart from the fact that Troy seemed to be a pretty nice guy, he appeared charmed by Cris' cooking and their daughter in almost equal measures. Further comment about the fact that their friend had just had dinner with Mr Folksy Charm was clearly impossible, at least for now, but after tonight, it was clearly going to be hard to hate the guy on principle as they felt they should.

"So Gabs," said Estella, determinedly changing the subject, "I guess you guys must be in the middle of filming the Christmas Extravaganza?"

Gabby nodded, smiling at the waitress who came to take away their empty plates, leaving them with the dessert menu. "Yep. We covered Santa's arrival at the Zoo, and then went to the Botanic Gardens for the Christmas tree festival and market stalls, and we're waiting for our assistant director and his crew to catch us up before we get some footage here in the Old Town."

Cris fished in his pocket for his watch. "They must be setting up now I guess."

Gabby nodded. "I spoke with Dean when we were putting together the schedule for tonight, and he said they're aiming for nine o'clock."

"Dean Tenney?" Cris looked surprised. "Is he still working for the City Events Committee? I thought he and Jen moved to Chicago."

"They did. They also set up their own events planning business there, but apparently, the idea of heading the committee on which they used to be coffee-making, photocopying interns was just too exciting for them, so when the Governor of New Mexico asked them, they practically flew here without packing."

"The Governor of New Mexico?" Estella looked impressed. "They must be doing well in Chicago for him to make them that kind of offer."

"Yes, it seems that you can't get the contract for the Toronto Winter Olympic Opening Ceremony and not arouse some interest in the city where you used to organise Santa's arrival at the city zoo." Gabby grinned. "It's just a shame that they've been working so hard. I only found out they were even _in_ town last week, and I haven't been able to find any evening that they're free for us all to catch up."

"These are friends from school, right?" Troy looked up, taking advantage of a lull in Tia's high-pitched monologue on the alphabet.

Estella nodded. "Dean was a friend of Gabby's brother Diego, and Jen was in the drama club with Shar and Ryan. Why?" she added, curiously.

Troy shrugged. "It just seems that your school has produced an extraordinary amount of high achievers. The school I went to was obsessed with churning out our country's future leaders, but I don't think their alumni list is half as impressive as your school's. Or, for that matter, as interesting." he added as an afterthought. "I think most of the guys I was friends with now work in finance."

Gabby sighed. "I can't tell you how much the PTA would love to hear that, but in the interests of accuracy and honesty, Troy, I feel that I should remind you that East High is also where the elves all go to school."

"The elves?" Cris looked between Gabby and Troy as the latter shuddered. "Santa's elves?"

"Yeah," Troy nodded, glancing down at Tia, who was putting the finishing touches to her sheet of T's, "and Santa'd do well to have a slightly more rigourous screening process next year but that's probably a story for another time."

"You know what? I can imagine." Estella grinned, as her daughter capped Troy's pen with a flourish. "Are you done, Tia? Can I see? Wow, look at all those T's! Do you want to take it home and stick it on the fridge?"

"Nope, I want Troy to take it home and stick it on _his_ fridge."

Troy, who had been holding Tia's handiwork to Estella, did a double take and looked down at Tia in surprise. "Me? You want me to have it?"

Tia nodded. "Uhuh."

"Oh, well…thank you." A slow smile spread across his face. "No one's ever drawn a picture for me before."

Tia, whose pictures were regularly accepted by and displayed on the fridges of most of _Flor_'s regular customers, looked nonplussed at Troy's reception of her artwork, so he hastened to explain. "Um, see, I don't actually know many kids, and certainly none as good at drawing as you, so this picture will be the first on my fridge."

"Oh." Tia shrugged. "I'll draw you some more then."

Troy grinned. "Really?"

"Yep. For Christmas. You can put them on your fridge too." She turned round on his lap so she could look him in the eye. "Right in the middle."

Cris laughed. "Ah yes, an unadorned fridge with no current artist in residence. Good work, Tia, you stake your claim. And on that note," he checked his watch again, "I'd better go back and make sure that Anton's not let everything go to rack and ruin in my absence."

Estella tapped him on the arm. "Ooh, honey, that reminds me, Tia and I are going shopping for presents for the staff tomorrow, and I currently have a question mark next to Anton's name. I was thinking a nice bottle of wine and some cheese. What do you think?"

"Sure, you could go down the obvious route, but I have a better idea. What do you think about a mug that says _World's Greatest Sous-Chef_?" suggested her husband cheerfully, getting to his feet, "Do you think they make those?" He picked up his daughter and gave her a kiss, "Night night mija, be a good girl for Mommy and I'll bring you some of Felicia's cookies for your snack tomorrow."

Estella stood up and reached for Tia's coat. "Yeah that's right Flores, bribe our kid with food."

Cris shrugged, grinning, and kissed her. "It's always worked with you, Stel, I see no reason why it shouldn't work with our offspring." He turned to Gabby and Troy. "Montez, always a pleasure, and Troy, it's great to finally meet you. We'll see you again, I hope."

Troy shook his hand. "Carry on making that beef ragù, man, and I'm your friend for life."

Cris smiled. "Glad to hear it." He waved and started making his way towards the kitchen. "'Night, guys, see you soon."

"Are you off too?" Gabby asked as Estella started helping Tia into her coat.

Estella nodded. "Yep, I think I'll quit while we're ahead and get this little monkey home and into bed before she fully comes down from her Grandma-induced sugar high. It's way past her bedtime as it is." She looked between Gabby and Troy. "Thanks for letting us crash your dinner, guys, we'll leave you to your dessert. Troy, it was lovely to meet you and Gabs," she gave her friend a look that conveyed very neatly all that she couldn't say out loud, "I'll ring you tomorrow."

* * *

"So," Dessert finished, Troy sat back as their waitress took away their coffee cups and went to get the bill, "Did you want to look through the notes for tonight?"

Gabby laughed and glanced at her watch. "An hour and a half later, and he surfaces from his food-trance." She shook her head. "I think we're all set, honestly. This event requires the least amount of you and me on screen; The Old Town's the star of this one. Tom and the guys will probably be out there getting footage already, and there are some interviews lined up, but you're prepped for those, right?"

"Yeah, it's just the details of the event itself I seem to be hazy on."

Gabby smiled. "Trust me, Troy, you're going to love it." She looked up as their waitress came back to the table. "Is there something wrong with the bill, Kirsten?"

Kirsten shook her head, smiling. "No, but Estella left a note at the bar for you." She took one of _Flor_'s business cards out of the pocket of her apron on the back of which was written in Estella's curly handwriting _'Dinner's on us, guys, have an awesome night! With love, E,C and T xx'_

Gabby smiled and handed the card to Troy, who raised his eyebrows and whistled. "Good people, those Floreses,"

"The best." Gabby got to her feet. "Shall we go see if Tom and the guys are ready?"

A minute later, still buttoning their coats, they left the warmth and bustle of _Flor_ and stepped out into the middle of the final event in their schedule. Gabby was leading the way, but found when she reached the archway leading to the main street through the Old Town that her co-anchor had stopped dead in the middle of the courtyard, and was looking about him as if he had just stepped off a spaceship onto a strange planet.

"Troy?" She looked back over her shoulder. "Are you OK?"

Troy cleared his throat. "What? Oh, yeah. I just…I think I was expecting something…"

"Something more like the other two events?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess so."

Gabby nodded. "It is different to the others. I mean," she turned on the spot, her arms outstretched, "This is really all the last event is. There's no grotto for Santa, no elves, no market stalls, and no live music. Some shops that normally close at five open late, but basically, this is it."

Troy nodded again and the two of them stood in silence for a moment, looking about them. It was quiet in the courtyard, and would have been dark had it not been for the hundreds of little paper shades holding lit candles that stood in rows on every window sill and wall. After a minute, Gabby glanced at her co-anchor, who appeared distracted, and nudged him with her elbow.

"Hey."

Troy gave a start. "Oh, right. Yeah, let's go find Tom."

Together, they walked out into the street, where the same little paper lanterns lined every walkway, and stood in every niche and along every available wall.

"We made these at the workshop this morning, right?" Troy paused to examine one more closely.

Gabby nodded. "Yeah, they're called luminarias. The organisers like to hold back until the last possible moment before putting them out, and then they light them all at once."

"That must take a lot of man-power."

"Yes, but the committee are hardly short of volunteers when it comes to Christmas. Plus, your face when we walked out into the middle of it tells me it was worth it." Gabby smiled. "It makes a bigger statement." she added, looking about her appreciatively.

"It certainly does."

Something in his tone made her look up at him, but he was still looking thoughtfully at the luminaria.

"Troy?"

He turned to her. "Sorry. Miles away again. Busy day catching up with me. Do you want me to ring Tom and find out where he is?"

"No, don't worry, he said they'd set up near the bandstand in the Plaza." Gabby glanced up at her co-anchor again as they started walking, and frowned. He had covered it quickly, but for a moment, when his mind was obviously elsewhere, the sadness that had crossed his face earlier at dinner had returned. At least, that was what it had looked like to her, she told herself firmly; it was ridiculous to imagine that within a few short weeks, she could presume to know what was going on in someone's head. Particularly Troy Bolton's.

* * *

An hour and a half later, as she helped the camera men pack their cables into the production van, Gabby concluded that must have been seeing things. Fuelled by what he enthusiastically pronounced to be the best meal he had ever had, the singularly refreshing company of Ms Tia Flores and, she suspected, a total lack of gratuitous Christmas cheer and perky elves, Troy had thrown himself into the final event of the evening with what could only be described as gusto leaving Gabby to either join him in his enthusiasm or get left behind. Segments that, on paper, should have taken three minutes had stretched out to eight or nine; local shopkeepers who had, in the past, been reluctant to take part in _GMA_'s feature found themselves being interviewed on camera and telling Troy about their strong family ties to the city and how Christmas events like these fostered a wonderful community spirit. What was clear from evening, Gabby decided, was that she and Troy had hit their stride. They may have had a bumpy start professionally, but there was no doubt that they were shaping up to be a very good team. _Elliot was right_, she thought as she slid the last crate of cables into the van and slammed the door, _who knew?_

"So how're you getting home?" Troy leant against the side of the van, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "You don't have your car with you, do you?"

"No, Jon picked me up this morning on the way to the workshop."

"So how are you planning on getting home?"

Gabby waved her hand vaguely in the direction of her house. "Walking. I live about ten minutes away. That's why I didn't bother bringing my car with me; I knew I'd be ending the evening here."

"Cool." Troy straightened up and zipped his jack a little higher. "I'll walk you."

Gabby blinked. "What? No, you don't have to do that, I'll be fine."

Troy shrugged. "I'm sure you would be."

"So you don't need to walk me."

"And yet I'm going to."

Gabby sighed. He was beginning to undo all the good, team-building work they'd done that evening. "Troy…"

"Gabby."

"Yes?"

"My car is totally blocked in."

"Oh." Gabby dismissed the rest of her speech. "Really?"

"It's practically wedged in there. There's absolutely no way I'm going to be able to get out of there until one or both of them move, and they could technically stay there all night until the parking restrictions come in at six thirty."

Gabby shook her head. "If they parked after you, chances are they've been at the event in the Old Town. They may have already moved."

Troy leading the way, they walked the short distance to where his car was parked, and stood looking at it in silence.

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"Wedged."

"I know."

Gabby checked her watch as surreptitiously as she could, but Troy noticed.

"Yeah, it's getting pretty late. We should get going." He made as if to start walking, and stopped when he saw Gabby hesitate. "Look. I'll walk you home, which will hopefully give one or both of these goobers the opportunity to leave, and if they still haven't then I'll get a cab home and come back for the car in the morning."

Gabby sighed. "OK."

"Think of it this way." said Troy with a grin as they started walking, "I'm not walking you home, I'm walking home _with_ you."

_In what way does that help me at all, Troy? You look like some kind of rugged explorer in those boots and the cold has brought a colour to your cheeks that I haven't seen before and I still really like your suede jacket. How will that make me find you less attractive right now?_ Gabby grimaced slightly at the inner monologue which she had almost shared with her co-anchor and formulated a briefer, less controversial response. "And that makes a difference how, precisely?"

"I'm just saying," Troy spread his hands in defence, "Historically, you've not responded well to my attempts at chivalry, so I thought maybe if you considered it a favour to me, you'd be more comfortable."

"What, congratulate myself on saving you from the famously harsh Albuquerque winter, you mean?"

Troy looked a little wounded. "It is quite cold."

Gabby grinned. "Yeah, Moscow's got nothing on us."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, before Troy spoke again. "So how's your Christmas countdown going?" he asked, and when she looked blank, said "You know, your list of traditions that the guys were teasing you about when we had dinner at Zeke and Sharpay's. Sugar cookies and wreaths and Muppets and something about carolling…"

She waved a hand impatiently. "Ah, you shouldn't pay too much attention to them. _Mock Gabby_ is one of their favourite games."

Troy looked sceptical. "You mean they were lying?"

Gabby's honesty got the better of her desire not to appear a total freak. "They weren't exactly lying." She sighed. "Actually, on a normal year, most of it is true. I do watch Muppet movies and I do make wreaths and I do buy a new Christmas album every year..."

"A normal year?" Troy interrupted, looking like he already had a fair idea of what she meant.

Gabby chose her words carefully. "A normal year would be one where I wasn't in bed for almost a week right before Christmas."

"I guess it might also be a year when much of your time has been taken up engaging in a war of words with someone who described you to your face as 'Folksy'." Troy glanced at her as they walked, as if trying to read her expression. "You know, I'll admit that it wasn't the best choice of words, but I didn't mean it in the way you think I did."

A week ago, Gabby would have seen that as grounds for another lengthy debate. Now, catching his eye as they walked under a street lamp, she found that she believed him.

"So which of the activities on your Christmas countdown list remain un-ticked?" he asked again, taking advantage of the silence where the yelling and expostulating would have been.

Gabby considered. "Well, I have my tree, and am in the process of decorating it. Sasha and Joe, the kids next door, made me a wreath while I was sick, which I put up yesterday. I have my presents pretty much covered, thanks to wonder that is internet shopping and home delivery, and I have a Muppet movie date with Shar, Taylor and Kels tomorrow night, during which we're hoping to get some cookies baked and any presents that aren't for each other wrapped. So actually the only main thing I haven't managed to do is to find a new recipe."

"A new recipe? A recipe for what?"

Gabby thought for a moment. "I think it was a tradition my Grandma from Boston started. Or maybe it was her mother. Anyway, she likes to find a new recipe and debut it at some point on Christmas Day. Some get made that one time and are then relegated to her big cookery book, but other things, like cinnamon and cardamom buns, or brie and red wine nut roast, or chocolate meringues have become family favourites."

"And you've not found anything worthy of a Montez Family Christmas?"

"Not really, no."

"What are the criteria?"

"The criteria is two-fold," said Gabby, counting them off on her fingers. "It has to have the potential either to be a long-running favourite, or to totally gross out one or more family member."

Troy laughed. "Such as?"

"Um, I don't know, if I just say the words 'peppermint eggnog'…" she laughed at his exaggerated shudder. "Yeah, I know. It was like drinking hot melted mint ice cream."

"You must think I'm totally weird."

"Weird how?" His words took Gabby by surprise, and she looked up at him curiously.

As she spoke, they entered the courtyard on which she lived, where it appeared that Christmas had come early. Strings of fairy lights were twisted round railings and front doors, most of which displayed wreaths of various shapes and sizes. Glass baubles and paper snowflakes hung in some windows, while another had been almost entirely obscured by an enthusiastic application of spray-on snow. Troy paused to look around him before answering. "Weird for not observing all these Christmas traditions. Weird for not having a great love of your favourite holiday."

Gabby smiled. "Troy, if anyone's weird here, it's the girl whose family make peppermint eggnog and hold annual snow animal building contests. I'll admit that I was a bit surprised at first, but the fact that you didn't have exactly the same upbringing as me doesn't make it weird, it's just…different. Besides," she walked up the steps to her front door and started looking in her bag for her keys, "it's not like you've never heard of Christmas before. There must be some traditions you're _aware_ of, even if you don't observe them."

"I guess so." He answered thoughtfully.

Gabby rooted through her bag for a moment more, found her keys and turned to say goodnight to Troy who was standing at the bottom of the steps.

Except he wasn't standing at the bottom of the steps.

He wasn't standing on the steps at all.

It was ironic, Gabby thought in the second before he kissed her and she dropped her keys, that the man who seemed most baffled by all things festive should smell so much like Christmas.

* * *

**Thanks SO much for your lovely reviews; please keep them coming!**


	22. The Flailing and the Choking

**The Flailing and the Choking**

Later, when she had had time to collect her thoughts, she would point out that generally, kissing is something that happens with the prior knowledge of both parties, not just one, and under the circumstances, it is completely understandable that one might be taken by surprise and act a little strangely. Unfortunately, nothing so rational or sensible occurred to her at the time. In the moment that Troy's lips touched hers, Gabby forgot two things: how to breathe and what to do with her arms. A moment later, Troy, who had continued breathing throughout and was therefore not gasping for air, removed his hand from the small of her back where he, with full control of his limbs, had placed it to draw her closer to him, and looked at her with a mixture of interest and amusement.

"Are you OK?"

"Um," Gabby attempted not to gulp too obviously. "Yes?"

He looked unconvinced. "Are you sure? Maybe I did it wrong."

_Nothing about that was wrong_. Gabby, uncomfortably aware that she would be unable to smell lemon zest, wood smoke or Christmas trees for a while without thinking of him, began to answer, but Troy broke in again, clearly thinking out loud. "I mean, I thought it was fairly simple, but," he surveyed her closely for a second, "what with the flailing and the choking, I'm thinking I may have done it wrong."

Gabby found to her relief that she was standing close enough to her front door to lean against it surreptitiously. "The flailing and the choking?"

Troy nodded. "I thought it was a tradition you observed."

"Tradition?" Gabby put a hand to her head. "Troy, what tradition?"

He smiled patiently. "You said that there must be at least _one_ Christmas tradition I knew about, and just then, I realised you were right. See, up there…" he pointed up above their heads, where greenery and fairy lights wound around the beams of the wooden veranda.

Gabby followed his gaze and then looked back at him in disbelief. "Are you talking about mistletoe?"

Troy nodded. "Yeah, mistletoe. The romantic comedy writer's best weapon." He paused, and looked hard at his co-anchor, who was still looking a little confused. "You do kiss under mistletoe at Christmas, right?"

Gabby looked back up at the greenery and then nodded slowly. "Um, yes. Except…Troy, that's not mistletoe."

If she had been expecting Troy to clap a hand across his mouth and back away uttering profound apologies for his mistake, she would have been wrong. Instead, he merely raised his eyebrows and looked up again. "Really?"

Having spent two hours on Sunday afternoon standing on a ladder with Bea handing her branches and pieces of wire, Gabby didn't really need to look again to check. "Really."

"So what's that, then?" he asked, pointing.

"That would be holly."

"And that?"

"Spruce."

"Huh." Troy nodded interestedly in the manner of a tourist on a guided tour of a museum and grinned. "It's true then. You really do learn something new every day."

"I guess so." Gabby leant her head wearily against the door frame, suddenly aware of the time and the tiredness creeping up her back. "Glad I could be of service."

Troy caught the note in her voice, looked hard at her for a second and then glanced at his watch. "Yeah, it's late." He picked up the keys she had dropped, leant past her to unlock her front door and pushed it open.

"Um, thanks." Gabby glanced over her shoulder into her dark kitchen and gathered her slowly ebbing strength to stand up straight. "I hope you get your car out."

"What? Oh, yeah, thanks." Troy paused half way down the veranda steps. "Me too."

"Do you have a cab number in case you need one?"

He nodded. "I'll probably walk though. I'm further away than you are from the Old Town, but I think I have my bearings now. Anyway," he pushed his hands deep in his pockets and took a deep breath, looking up at the clear, starry sky, "It's a beautiful night."

Gabby took a couple of steps forward to look out from under the edge of the veranda. "It is." She paused as he looked back at her, feeling suddenly awkward. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yep, bright and early." If he noticed her awkwardness, Troy didn't react to it. He simply grinned, zipped his jacket up further and ran down the rest of the steps. "And you'd better bring your A Game, Montez..."

Gabby, who had one foot inside her front door, turned at his words and raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

He nodded. "Oh yeah. Chad's right, I'm on a roll now. There's no stopping me. Gimme a glue gun and some pinecones and some raffia and I'll fashion you a garland that'll blow your mind."

"Oh...really? Well...I..." Gabby's snappy retort died a death.

Troy grinned again, sensing victory but knowing better than to celebrate right there. "'Night Gabby." With that, he turned, crossed the courtyard and with a final wave, disappeared onto the street.

In the quiet that followed his departure, Gabby stood motionless on her doorstep for a moment, staring at the archway through which he had just vanished.

"Garlands..." She muttered under her breath, shaking her head. "I'll give _him_ a garland...right in the..." She trailed off darkly as she turned and finally entered her house. It was full fifteen minutes before she stopped smiling.

* * *

**From:** Sharpay Evans-Baylor

**To:** Ryan Evans

**Subject:** An exciting job opportunity has arisen at the Evans-Baylor household

So I have a fun job for you. My car is in the shop, and Zeke just rang me from under what I can only assume was a massive pile of paper, to inform me that he's going to be working late and, as such, will be unable to drive me home from work and then to and from Gabby's house tonight. This means that the position of Pregnant Lady Chauffeur has suddenly become vacant, and I thought I'd let you know before I'm inundated with applications.

S xx

PS: I realise the title is confusing, but you don't have to be a pregnant lady to apply for this position. In fact, non-pregnancy may well be an advantage to the aspiring candidate.

PPS: I will pay you in cookies.

* * *

**From:** Ryan Evans

**To:** Sharpay Evans-Baylor

**Subject:** re: An exciting job opportunity has arisen at the Evans-Baylor household

What kind of cookies?

R

* * *

**From:** Sharpay Evans-Baylor

**To:** Ryan Evans

**Subject:** re: re: An exciting job opportunity has arisen at the Evans-Baylor household

Chocolate fudge peanut butter. Zeke made them last night. I'd give you some of the oatmeal raisin Gummi Bear ones I made except I seem to have eaten them all.

* * *

**From:** Ryan Evans

**To:** Sharpay Evans-Baylor

**Subject:** re: re: re: An exciting job opportunity has arisen at the Evans-Baylor household

Oh wow, Shar, are there really no more of your cookies littered with the corpses of tiny melted bears? That's too bad. I'd ask who won the bake-off (and I assume it _was_ a bake-off, only you can make baking competitive. Well, you and the creators of _Top Chef_…) if I thought there was any likelihood that you hadn't ambushed the mail man this morning and got him to pronounce you the winner...

OK, I'll do it. Accept the dubious honour of being your chauffeur for the evening, that is. Please see below for my rider.

R

_The Candidate will accept the job of Pregnant Lady Chauffeur under the following conditions:_

_**1 **That the Pregnant Lady in question allows him to buy dinner for them both on the way home and not insist on making something out of leftovers from the fridge._

_**2** Furthermore, that the Pregnant Lady does not attempt to feed the Candidate cookies containing ingredients made by Haribo._

_**3** That the Pregnant Lady allows the Candidate to hang at her place while he is between chauffeuring jobs, as the heating in his apartment is broken, his girlfriend is out of town and he was going to invite himself over to the Pregnant Lady's house for dinner anyway._

* * *

**From:** Sharpay Evans-Baylor

**To:** Ryan Evans

**Subject:** Really?

A rider? Who do you think you are? Bono?

It's a sad state of affairs when you have to negotiate with your brother before he'll do the littlest thing for you. I thought that Zeke's cookies would clinch the deal, but whatever. So, to your 'rider'. Gabby's not expecting me until after 7:30 so yes, hurtful comments about my cooking aside, we can buy dinner on the way home as long as it's not Mexican and I can pay for half. I bought _Zoolander_, _Two Weeks Notice_, and _Twilight_ yesterday. We can watch the gag reels while we eat.

Yes, you can hang at ours while you're not driving me around; I was going to offer anyway. And you're staying the night, too. If Mom finds out that your heating was broken and I _knew_ about it and didn't have you over until it's fixed, she'd cut me out of her will. Especially what with this cold spell we've been having.

And no, I won't try and feed you cookies made with Gummi Bears. I told you, I've eaten them all. Pay attention, Evans.

S xx

* * *

**From:** Ryan Evans

**To:** Sharpay Evans-Baylor

**Subject:** re: Really?

You're probably right about Mom. I'll see if I can get someone in to fix the heating this afternoon, but if I don't, I think I'd better stay over, for your sake as well as mine.

Your mentioning Gabby reminded me: what's going on with her? I rang Jaime at work earlier, and as we were talking, Gabs sailed through the office singing _Good Morning_ from _Singin' in the Rain._ Not that she isn't a cheery sort of person, but the last time I remember her singing in public, it involved Margaritas. What gives?

And Shar, from what I've read about _Twilight_, I find it unlikely that there will be a gag reel.

See you at 6:00. I'll be downstairs convincing your doorman I'm not a terrorist.

R

* * *

**From:** Sharpay Evans-Baylor

**To:** Ryan Evans

**Subject:** Stupid vampires…

What? No gag reel? We don't get to see Robert Pattinson's hilarious on-set pranks? How else does he wind down after a hard day's angsting?

You're right, he probably reads Proust.

So. Gabby. She was singing? Where people could potentially hear her? Interesting…

Nope, I got nothing on that unless it's…well…I'm not exactly sure, but I could make an educated guess. I'm working on a theory. I'll talk to you about it over dinner. After the gag reels, that is.

S xx

* * *

"So Gabs, how did last night go?"

At just past nine, with the credits of _Muppet Family Christmas_ rolling, Kelsi broke the contented silence resulting from an evening of cookie baking and movie watching, coupled with the slightly smug satisfaction at having got practically every Christmas present wrapped and labelled in one go.

Gabby picked absentmindedly at the sugar snowflakes on her cookie. "Oh, you know, fine."

Taylor exchanged glances with the other two. "Really? I was hoping you'd say that because it looked good from the bits I saw at lunch today..."

"You watch GMA at the office?" Gabby looked up with a grin.

"Are you kidding?" Taylor leant forward to refill her mug with coffee. "After the craft workshop yesterday, there was no way Chad was going to miss it. We were both on a conference call first thing this morning, so at lunch, we ordered in and watched all the segments they'd put up on the GMA website."

Sharpay nodded. "I sometimes do that. Although more often than not, we end up watching it in the morning editorial meeting."

"You know," Kelsi regarded her friend with interest, "It's really amazing that you manage to produce a monthly magazine at that place."

Gabby laughed at Sharpay's indignant expression. "She's right, Shar, the last time I came by for lunch, you were all watching _Glee_ on the flat screen in the conference room."

Sharpay shrugged. "It's was Beth's birthday. _Anyway_," she said, changing the subject, "you haven't really answered Kelsi's question, Gabs. How was the filming last night?"

Gabby sighed. "It was...better."

"Better than what?" Kelsi slid off the sofa to better reach the plate of cookies. "You don't mean that Mr Folksy Charm is actually becoming bearable to work with?"

Gabby thought for a minute. "Honestly, it was probably the best work we've done together, although," she laughed, "I thought the zoo might have broken him."

"The zoo? How do you mean?"

"Um, let's just say that the elves have had a makeover."

"What?" Sharpay looked up from her hot chocolate. "Santa's elves? But we were charming! Full of school spirit!"

"You were, honey." Gabby agreed, "You were helpful and sweet and perky but the elves yesterday were rather more _Mean Girls_ than _Miracle on 34__th__ Street_, and a number of them seemed to belong to the newly formed Troy Bolton Appreciation Society." She grinned at the recollection. "They brought whole new meaning to the phrase _O come, let us adore him_."

Sharpay widened her eyes for a second and then wrinkled her nose. "Euw."

"Yeah, I let it go for a while, of course, because the look on his face was so funny, but when they started asking him to sign their bra straps, I had to step in."

"And again, EUW." Sharpay shook her head. "That would never have happened in my day."

"Why? Because you were all such nice, wholesome girls?"

Sharpay stuck her tongue out at Taylor and continued. "Actually, yes. But also because we lived in fear of the cheerleading coach who chaperoned us."

Gabby grinned. "I'd forgotten about her! Well this year's elves were clearly not in fear of their chaperone. Troy was still looking kind of hunted as we left the Botanic Gardens for the Old Town."

"Oh, that was always my favourite event." Kelsi said slightly wistfully, "It's been a couple of years since either Jase or I managed not to be working that night."

"Trials and tribulations of a kindergarten teacher just before Christmas, huh Kels?"

Kelsi rolled her eyes at Gabby's question. "A kindergarten teacher whose boss decided it would be a lovely idea for the annual play to be held after the holidays have begun, you mean. And don't even get me started on the parents. From the fuss some of them are making, you'd think I was directing a Broadway production of _Annie_. I'll be so happy tomorrow when it's all over. Anyway," she shook her head slightly and returned to her original topic, "how was the Old Town event?"

Gabby shrugged slightly. "As always, quiet and classy and peaceful. And so _quick_! They got the luminarias put out and lit in less than an hour."

"From scratch?" Taylor looked up, impressed. "They normally take twice that long."

"I know." Gabby nodded. "And there were more candles this year as well. I don't know how they did it exactly, maybe they had more volunteers or they got their existing ones hopped up on espresso and candy. All I know is that there were no sign of them when we walked into _Flor_ at seven thirty and the event was well underway when we walked out an hour and half later."

"You ate at _Flor_?" Sharpay paused in the act of choosing another cookie. "Did you have the ragù and tagliarini? Zeke had a business lunch there the other day and said his meal almost made him cry. I mean, you know, again." She added as an afterthought.

Gabby shook her head. "Nope, I had the gnocchi and mushrooms, but Troy had the ragù and he said it was the best…he'd…ever…" she trailed off as she realised what she'd said.

Dramatic as it was, the stunned silence that followed the shock naming of Gabby's dinner companion was made even more dramatic by Kelsi's coughing fit (having gasped with half a cookie in her mouth) and Taylor's shouts of "Ow! Hot! Hot hot hot!" (having spilt her coffee down her jeans). Sharpay regained composure first, handed Taylor a napkin, patted Kelsi on the back and turned to Gabby with an expression that suggested that she already knew the answer to her question she was about to pose. "So he invited himself to dinner, huh? What a jerk."

"Not exactly."

"He _hinted_, then? Wrote you an acrostic poem on the phrase _INVITE ME TO DINNER_? Hired a sky writer?"

Gabby met her eye, bitterly regretting that she'd been brought up to tell the truth. "You could at least _pretend_ that you're not enjoying this, you know." She sighed. "He didn't hint. We'd just finished our segments at the Botanic Gardens and he asked me where he could grab a sandwich just as I was about to phone _Flor_ to see if they had a table for me. I don't know, I just thought it would be...polite." she finished somewhat lamely.

"Polite? _Polite_?" Sharpay put down her hot chocolate so she could gesticulate wildly without endangering the cushion covers. "Since when have you worried about being _polite_ to Troy Bolton? And don't say 'since always' Montez, you pushed the guy into a lake and then gave him a concussion with your front door."

"Hey." Gabby put up a hand in protest. "Nearly. Nearly gave him a concussion. He was fine after a couple of Tylenol and you could hardly see the bruise after the weekend." Entirely unprovoked, images of that morning ran through her head like a high-speed slide show: Troy sitting on her kitchen floor with his hand to his head, drinking coffee at the kitchen table, leaning against the kitchen counter talking to her as she washed up. She caught herself smiling and realised that up to this point, his presence in her life had felt like a small, persistently irritating stone in her shoe, a feeling that was now conspicuously absent for almost the first time since she had first met him at the Studio cocktail party. Leaning forward, she picked up the next movie from the pile on her coffee table and changed the subject as dexterously as she knew how. "A little _Muppet Christmas Carol_, ladies?"

It wasn't as smooth as she had hoped. Or rather, these three girls had, between them, known her almost her entire life and knew when a subject change actually meant "I don't want to talk about it." She knew she wasn't off the hook. She also knew that she hadn't taken the Fifth where a guy was concerned for a long time and that this would likely be remarked upon in the near future. For now though, she escaped with a knowing look from Sharpay and settled back against the sofa with her refilled mug of coffee as the movie began. This, she discovered, was a mistake. Watching a movie that she had seen too many times to count allowed her mind to wander, and before she realised what was happening, the mental slide show began again, this time continuing to show Troy on her veranda steps shrugging off her thanks as if it were the most natural thing in the world that he should have looked after her when she was sick, before running forward to the next time they had stood on the same steps when he had pulled her close and kissed her under a bough of greenery containing no mistletoe. She smiled again. And everything began to make a little bit more sense. In a weird, twisted kind of way.

* * *

From: **AlbuquerqueBlogger**

_**Breakfast TV Bust-up**_

The well-tuned Albuquerque rumour mills are spinning once again this morning with the news that Gabriella Montez is to leave _Good Morning Albuquerque_ after furious exchanges with her on-off boyfriend and co-anchor Troy Bolton resulted in an altercation at a popular Old Town restaurant.

The couple were allegedly trying to patch things up for the sake of their successful working relationship, but sources say that Gabby's departure has been on the cards for a while, and that judging by their fight last night, there seems to be little hope of a reconciliation.

* * *

The next morning, Gabby was in the middle of re-touching her makeup when out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Mia hovering in the doorway to her trailer. Without turning round, she addressed her friend's reflection.

"What's up, Mia?"

Mia, under the impression she had been hovering unobserved, started nervously. "Oh, hey. I was just bringing you a copy of the new running schedule."

"A new one?" Pausing with the mascara wand inches from her eye, Gabby turned in her seat, confused. "New since you gave me one ten minutes ago?"

"Oh." Mia stopped riffling through the stack of papers she carried. "No. That would be why I can't find it. Sorry Gabs, I'll see you later." She made for the door but hesitated on the top step.

"Hey." Gabby finished her eye makeup and swivelled her chair so she faced her friend. "What's going on?" She waved at the vacant stool next to her. "Talk to me, lady."

Mia sat down with a deep sigh but still seemed uncharacteristically unwilling to talk. Gabby eyed her suspiciously. "What is it? Has camera two gone on the fritz? Is it Jon? Has he been drinking multiple double espressos again? Whatever he said to you Mi, I wouldn't listen; you know that if it wasn't for you, he'd spend the entire afternoon in a caffeine-induced stupour."

Mia shook her head. "No, it's not the camera and it's not Jon. It's…" She sighed. "It's just that I was checking my email this morning and scanning the news pages and I found a link to this story…"

"About me leaving GMA? Yeah, I saw it." said Gabby, reaching for her hairbrush.

"That's it!" Mia let out a relieved sigh. "Oh Gabs, I'm so glad you're not upset, I've been so worried."

Gabby smiled, and patted her hand. "It's really sweet of you to be so concerned, but you know I never take what I read in the press seriously. They take a little grain of truth and blow it out of all proportion and _then_ write a story about it."

Mia nodded. "Hence the stories about Kevin Bacon."

"Me and K-Bake?" Gabby looked shocked. "Mia, our love is real, _real_ I tell you!"

"K-Bake?" Another voice spoke and they both turned to see Troy leaning against the open door, his jacket draped over his shoulder and hooked on one finger. He looked at Mia. "She calls him _K-Bake_?"

Mia slid off her stool with a grin. "That's right, he and Gabs have been like _that_," she crossed her fingers for emphasis, "since she interviewed him last year."

"Yeah, I saw it." Troy raised an eyebrow significantly.

"Really?" said Gabby, resolutely ignoring the eyebrow and everything it might have implied, "How? It can't have been one of the episodes you were sent before taking the job."

Troy smirked. "No, you weren't wearing a suit, for one thing."

Gabby ignored this last as well. "You've been trawling the GMA archives, then?"

"No, but I do have unfettered access to Youtube. Tell me, is _Most Professional Interview_ a Daytime Emmy category, because I really think you have a shot this y…OW!" He broke off, rubbing the back of his head. "That's the second time in less than a week that you've whacked me on the head."

"Yes," Gabby smiled sweetly, unrolling her running schedule and tucking it back into her folder, "And this time, I actually meant to do it. Now if you'll excuse me, Bolton, I have a show to co-anchor and several highly professional interviews to conduct with members of the Albuquerque Operatic Society." And with that, she checked her reflection for the final time in the mirror, grabbed her jacket from the back of the door and marched down the stairs from her trailer, beckoning Mia to follow her.

"_K-Bake_…" Shaking his head, Troy addressed a spot on the wall of Gabby's trailer at the precise moment that an intern came round the corner.

"Sorry, what was that, Mr Bolton?" The intern looked concerned.

"Nothing, Jake. It's nothing." Troy waved a hand in apology, and as the intern disappeared behind the production van, pulled the trailer door shut behind him and starting down the steps. "Gabriella Montez, however," he said to no one in particular, "She's certainly something."

* * *

Five hours later, it was a combination of boredom and hunger that drove Gabby from her office. The show that morning had come from the Albuquerque Opera House which, as well as being home to the city's Operatic Society, also hosted several flourishing drama clubs for children. Assisting the drama coaches in shepherding fifty children through a rendition of _Food, Glorious Food _had left her feeling both in need of sustenance and disillusioned with the extremely dull content of her email inbox. It was therefore with the idea of going to see if anyone had plans for lunch that Gabby left her desk and arrived at the door to Jon's office to hear Mia saying "No, I know, I was worried too, but Gabs said not to stress about it. Oh, hey," she looked up as Gabby walked in, "I was just telling Jon what you said about the story this morning and how we shouldn't be worrying about it."

"Are you sure, Gabs?" Jon was looking concerned. "I mean, some of the stuff out there's just garbage, I get that, but this seems a little more reputable, don't you think?"

"Reputable?" Gabby frowned, recalling the last few stories she had read on AlbuquerqueBlogger, including the ones about her. "You realise that they have been running a series on sightings of Screech from _Saved by the Bell _and getting people to send in pictures if their pets look like members of the _A Team_, don't you? I'm not sure I'd class it as reputable, exactly."

"Are you serious? I didn't even know they had a gossip column." Jon raised his eyebrows, picking up a newspaper lying on his desk and scanned it. "That really surprises me, I thought they were way better than that. Hey," He put the paper down and looked at Gabby. "Aren't you a subscriber?"

Many publications in the city came out in digital and paper form. AlbuquerqueBlogger, Gabby was sure, was not one of them. With alarm bells ringing, she ignored Jon's question and turned to Mia. "So when you asked me about a story this morning, you weren't talking about the piece on AlbuquerqueBlogger that claims that I'm leaving GMA because Troy and I have broken up?" she said slowly.

Mia's eyes widened. "Oh Gabby…no, I was talking about this piece in _The_ _Journal_." She gestured with her hand to the paper on Jon's desk.

"The _Albuquerque_ _Journal_?" Gabby sat down heavily on a vacant chair and held out her hand for the paper. Gritting her teeth, she began to read:

_**Good Morning Albuquerque Set For Change**_

_Barely a month after the arrival of new weekday anchor Troy Bolton, it appears that the highly successful show is once more to experience a shake-up when Jess Mansfield leaves in January. Mansfield, who has presented Weekend GMA with Mario Benitez for the last five years, is due with her second child in March and has made it clear that she will not be returning to work immediately._

_With rumours already beginning to surface on internet blogs, sources within ABQ Studios suggest that popular weekday anchor Gabriella Montez could be jumping shows to replace her, leaving Troy Bolton to shoulder Weekday GMA on his own. Questioned on the subject last night at a charity gala, Studio boss Ray Bradshaw spoke about how much Jess would be missed and remarked "Gabriella is one of the most recognisable faces in the city, not to mention one of our finest presenters, and I am confident that she and Mario will form a highly successful partnership."_

_No reps were available to speak for Mansfield, Montez or Bolton, but with Ray Bradshaw's ringing endorsement, change would certainly appear to be imminent for the show that until recently had not seen an alteration in line-up in over two years._

Finally, her whistle broke the silence. "Oh boy."

Jon smiled grimly. "I know, right?"

Gabby dropped the paper back onto Jon's desk. "A master class in journalistic integrity."

Mia frowned. "Your friend writes for them, doesn't he?"

"Yes, but unless Ray Bradshaw was quoted while eating dinner at a restaurant that Zeke was reviewing, I don't think I can hold him responsible." Gabby grinned. "Although I doubt his wife will make that distinction." She got to her feet. "You guys are really sweet to be so concerned about me, but the best way to get to the bottom of this is to go speak to Elliot. If I'm right, Ray Bradshaw will have been on the phone to the editor of _The_ _Journal_, spitting blood and demanding that a retraction be printed." She sighed. "It'll just take longer to straighten it all out because the story comes from a well respected newspaper and not an internet 'publication' obsessed with dogs that look like Mr T. Compelling as that article was." She walked to the door, turning at Jon's whistle just in time to catch his copy of _The_ _Journal_.

"Do us a favour, Gabs. Take that with you so you can point out all the gross inaccuracies."

Gabby laughed. "Oh, I will."

She walked down the corridor, laughing at Jon's shout of "Give 'em hell, Montez!", and entered the lobby to find Jamie's desk vacant and Sam engaged in what appeared to be an extremely long and complicated telephone call. Rather than disturb Sam, she rounded Jaime's desk and checked the diary herself to find that Elliot had a meeting after lunch but an otherwise clear day. Knocking on the door, she entered without waiting for an answer, completely oblivious to Sam's frantic waving behind her.

"Sorry to disturb you, Elliot, I just wondered if you could...oh, I'm sorry…" Despite the clear space in Elliot's diary, a meeting was in progress but she broke off mid-apology as she took in the meeting's attendees: Elliot and his right and left-hand men Ted and Aaron, Ray Bradshaw, and Troy. Everything she had been about to say about the press and their relentless pursuit of sensation regardless of the actual truth dried up in her mouth. On the same day as _The_ _Journal_'s article about her changing jobs, a meeting held without her knowledge and attended by all the people now looking at her could mean only one thing.

Taking a deep, readying breath, she stepped forward and dropped Jon's copy of _The_ _Journal_ onto the coffee table where it sat with several other copies of the same paper, one of which had the story circled in red ink. "Sorry to disturb you, gentlemen, I brought this by to show Elliot but I see I needn't have bothered."

"Gabriella, I…ah…" Elliot, who had paled visibly at the appearance of his ex-girlfriend, loosened his tie and made a gesture that might have been a greeting or an invitation to sit in the vacant chair opposite him.

Whatever it was, Gabby ignored it and remained standing. "I was just telling Jon and Mia how this mistake of _The_ _Journal_'s was going to take a while to straighten out," she began, conversationally, "I mean, it's not one of those internet sites that has a coronary when Teri Hatcher is spotted buying a frappuccino at the city airport, it's a serious newspaper, right? That's what I told them, anyway. I said you'd have had the editor on the phone by now and would probably have had a conference call with Mr Bradshaw here, during which you'd have made it perfectly clear that you were in no way considering moving me to fill in for Jess, and you'd have demanded that a retraction be printed." Her eye travelled round the group, settling on Elliot. "I mean, that _is_ what this meeting is for, isn't it?"

Ted attempted to come to his boss' aid. "Gabriella…"

"But then," Gabby didn't wait for him to finish, "I'd have been _invited_ to that meeting, wouldn't I?" She turned to Elliot. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Elliot shifted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. "Gabby, look, I'm sorry you had to hear about it this way, but it's important that you know that it's by no means a done deal. It was something that had been mentioned as a possibility a week or so ago," he began slowly, "but the papers got hold of it somehow and then Ray's quote," he glanced at Bradshaw and seemed to be choosing his words carefully, "…precipitated matters."

"But you were talking about it." Gabby said flatly. "You were talking about me filling for Jess on the weekend show while Troy carries on by himself during the week." She closed her eyes for a second and touched a hand to her head, where she knew a monstrous headache was brewing. "I've been so stupid. I knew this would happen, Elliot, from the moment you introduced me to Troy at that cocktail party. I _knew_ it, but I sounded so crazy and jealous and bitter that I let everyone talk me out of it, telling myself that it would all work out in the end, telling myself it was for the good of the show." Looking down, she realised that she was gripping the back of the vacant chair so hard that her knuckles were white. Releasing her grip, she stepped back, shaking her head. "I think this is it."

"What?" Elliot started violently. "What do you mean?"

Gabby smiled sadly at him, unable to find any more anger for the moment. "I can't do this any more, Elliot. You've had your reasons for doing what you've done, and maybe you have had the show's best interests at heart, but you've certainly not had mine." She sighed, suddenly seeing very clearly what she had to do. "Come January, you're going to have to look for someone else to fill for Jess. I quit."

"Gabby, please…" began Elliot, but was interrupted by Ray Bradshaw.

"Look, Gabby," He sat forward in his seat, smiling kindly, "I can see you're pretty upset about this, and I guess I can see where you're coming from, but as Elliot says, it's not even been discussed by the board yet. Why don't we just close this book for now," he mimed the action with an expansive gesture, "and revisit it after the holidays when we've _all_ had a chance to calm down?"

In the shocked silence that followed this, Gabby caught Troy's wince and turned away. From almost the first moment of this disastrous meeting, she had decided that if she managed to get out without making eye contact with Troy, she would be OK. She'd not lose it completely. Finding that she could think of no response to Ray Bradshaw that wouldn't be entirely counter-productive given that she was just about to walk away from her job with one full day's notice, she smiled again at her ex-boyfriend, who, at Bradshaw's 'comforting chat', had sat back in his chair, his hand to his head and a horrified expression on his face. "I'll have my resignation on your desk after lunch."

* * *

"Gabby, please, wait."

She was half way across the lobby when Troy stopped her, thereby ruining her graceful exit. She spun on her heel to face him, and instantly regretted it. Here was someone who had sailed into her life, got her friends onside and then stolen her job, and all she could think about was how he smiled with his eyes, and how she wanted to know what it was that had made him so sad the other night, and how he had smelt of wood smoke and Christmas trees when he…

"No." The word was out of her mouth before she even knew what she was saying. Jaime and Sam exchanged glances and tactfully left their desk muttering something about coffee.

Troy watched them go, and then turned back to her. "I just wanted to…"

"No." Gabby shook her head, stepping toward him, the concept of not totally losing it now a distant and nostalgic memory.

"But I just…"

"You were hoping I hadn't read it, right?"

Troy blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"This morning. In my trailer. With the laughing and the joking and the _Most Professional Interview_. You came by to check that I hadn't seen the article, right?"

Troy looked pained. "Gabby, I'd never…I didn't know about it."

Gabby frowned. "The article or the fact that they had talked about giving you the show?" _Both, both, please say both_.

Troy met her eye for a fraction of a second and then looked away, and suddenly, nothing in the whole, horrible situation was as horrible to Gabby as the fact that he had lied to her.

"When?"

"Monday." His voice was somehow smaller.

"So when we were at the craft workshop, you knew then?"

Troy's gaze remained fixed on the ABQ Studio logo on the lobby floor.

Gabby tried again. "When I rescued you from the elves, you knew?"

No answer.

"When we had dinner together. When you met Cris and Stel and Tia. When you walked me home. When you…" Her voice cracked at this and to her intense disgust, she felt a tear slide down her cheek. She brushed it away impatiently and shook her head. "You knew, and you carried on like nothing had happened. Like nothing was going to happen."

Words had clearly been failing him, but at this, Troy knew what to say. Stepping forward, he reached for her hands. "Gabby, listen to me," he began, but something had been put into motion and there was nothing that Gabby could do to stop it. Like that misty morning on the jetty two weeks before, she acted on pure instinct. Before he could take her hands, before she fully realised what she was doing, her palm had connected at great speed with his cheek.

For a moment, neither of them moved, then Troy spoke, putting a hand up to his face. "I deserved that."

Gabby nodded. "Yes."

"So...I'll see you tomorrow."

Tomorrow. Her last show. "Fine." Feeling suddenly sick, Gabby nodded, and began to walk away.

"Gabby..."

"_What?_"

Troy spread his hands miserably and shrugged slightly. "I never meant for this to happen."

"You have no idea how badly I want to believe that." Her voice didn't sound like her own as she spoke, and she could see that he knew it too. That was the last straw. Turning on her heel, Gabby walked away down the corridor and made it into her office before she began to cry.

* * *

_Thank you so much for all your reviews and messages. If it weren't for them, this story would never have got this far._


	23. Speechless With Rage

**Speechless. With. Rage.**

…_Hi, you've reached the voicemail of Sharpay Evans-Baylor. I'm sorry I'm not around to take your call, but please leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks!_

beep

…_Hey Shar, it's Gabby. I was just calling to let you know that if I come over to dinner tonight, there's a very real possibility that I'll fall asleep at the table, possibly with my head in the bread basket. I'm really sorry to lame out on you like this, but work's been really busy today and I think what I really need most of all is an early night. Which I'm sure I'll regret when I'm chowing on yesterday's Chinese take-out and I remember the risotto Zeke was planning, but I just wanted to let you know. OK, love you, bye!_

* * *

From: Jaime Cabrera

To: Ryan Evans

Subject: Gabby

Ry, have you spoken to Gabby today? There was a meeting this morning and I'm not exactly sure what happened but she seemed kind of upset afterwards.

Let me know if you speak to her, would you? And give her my love if you do.

J xxx

* * *

From: Ryan Evans

To: Jaime Cabrera

Subject: re: Gabby

Hey you,

Sorry I wasn't able to get back to you earlier, I was stuck in rehearsals all afternoon, and after the impassioned speech I gave last week to the cast about the evils of cell phones in the theatre, I had mine on silent.

I haven't heard from Gabs, but I think she's having dinner with my sister tonight and if there's anything wrong, she'll get to the bottom of it. Her skills are famed. She might well be a ninja.

See you later? Dinner? At mine?

R xx

* * *

From: Ryan Evans

To: Sharpay Evans-Baylor

Subject: You and your mad skillz

Just a little heads-up for you: Jaime said that Gabs had seemed kind of upset after a meeting today and hasn't seen her since to ask her if she's OK.

I just thought that maybe while you were having dinner with her tonight, you might want to use your mad skillz to find out what's going on. It's not like her to get rattled by a business meeting.

Oh, and re: your request, yeah, sure, I'll pick Mom and Dad up from the airport. They come in on Saturday morning, right? Email me their flight details and I'll be there.

Ry

* * *

From: Sharpay Evans-Baylor

To: Ryan Evans

Subject: I DO have mad skillz. Thanks for noticing.

I WAS going to have dinner with her tonight, but she left a message on my cell while I was in my editorial lunch meeting and cancelled. She said she was just exhausted after work today, which, given that it's nearly Christmas and she was probably up at 4:30 this morning seemed pretty unsuspicious at the time so I didn't question it, but now I'm thinking maybe not…

I'll give her a call after work and see if she's OK.

Mom and Dad's flight number is WN 899 and gets in from Dallas at (don't kill me) 6:30am. I know! I'm sorry! I tried to get them to take a later flight by telling them that whichever of their children picked them up would more than likely be clutching a double espresso from Starbucks and scowling at them (except I shouldn't be drinking double espresso, so if I picked them up I'd be drinking peppermint tea and scowling at them from behind a really big pastry), but they were undeterred. It seems they really, really like getting up at three in the morning. Will you still do it? Please say yes, my Christmas Eve sanity may depend on being able to have breakfast in bed with my husband before the craziness begins. Ooh, I know, I'll get Z to make more of those cookies you liked.

Speak to you later,

Shar x

* * *

From: Ryan Evans

To: Sharpay Evans-Baylor

Subject: You're welcome

It's sweet that you seem to think I can be bought for just about any price with Zeke's cookies.

I just wish it wasn't true.

OK. FINE. I'll be there. But tell Mom that the part about the espresso and the scowling will likely happen. What possesses them to get such early flights? Is it a 'make the most of the day' thing? More importantly, is this something that WE'RE going to do one day?

Once I've dropped them off with you and collected my cookies, Jaime and I will be over for a festive Meet The Parents lunch, as per your invitation, at around 1:00. After that, I'll need to go and make sure that preparations for the Live Nativity are proceeding without hitch. I don't know what possessed me to agree to co-ordinate this. You know what they say about working with children, animals and college students…

See you tomorrow,

R x

* * *

From: Sharpay Evans-Baylor

To: Gabriella Montez

Subject: Not checking up on you. Honest.

Honey, I'm emailing you rather than calling in case you're already in bed and as you may remember, I've woken you up before and it didn't work out so well for me.

OK, there's no way of saying this that doesn't sound like people have been talking about you behind your back, but they were worried about you. And by 'they', I mean Jaime and Ryan. Jaime told Ryan that she was worried that you'd seemed upset after a meeting today but hadn't had a chance to see you afterwards, and Ry passed it on to me because we were going to see each other tonight.

And then after I knew that, I started worrying that this meeting had something to do with you cancelling on risotto chez Baylor. Which I'm sure it doesn't, but drop me a line or give me a call when you get this, would you? If you have time, I mean. It can be a very short message. Just say "Sharpay, you worry too much" and hang up. Or press send.

Love you,

S xxx

* * *

From: Sharpay Evans-Baylor

To: Ryan Evans

Subject: Why this is all your fault

Well, she hasn't called. Or emailed. And it's now…11:30 and I should really be asleep but instead, I'm sitting up in bed with my laptop, obsessing about the fact that my best friend hasn't called me back when she TOLD ME she was going to have an early night.

You did this to me, Evans. YOU. If I get no sleep tonight, you are the person I shall be calling. And when I get no sleep, Zeke gets no sleep, so expect a call from him too. I'll try telling him it's good practice for when we're getting up with the baby, but I can't rely on him buying that excuse.

Gabs was probably in bed by the time I emailed, so I shall let you know when I hear from her tomorrow morning.

Speak to you tomorrow,

S x

PS: Just realised that my berating you about lack of sleep may have negative impact on the likelihood of you picking up Mom and Dad on Saturday so, you know, strike out all the above. Or at least the parts that might induce you to renege on your previous offer. I've already told Z about the cookies you're owed. He considers it a fair price to pay.

_

* * *

_

Hey, this is Gabby. I'm not here, so leave your message at the…

beep

_OK, I lied. I don't want you to call me when you have time, I want you to take time out of your ridiculously busy schedule to call me and tell me you're OK. I know, I know, chalk it up to the crazy hormones of the pregnant lady. Humour me, won't you Montez?...This is Sharpay, by the way._

* * *

From: Sharpay Evans-Baylor

To: Ryan Evans

Subject: Why this is all your fault: Part II

So I slept reasonably well. No thanks to you. But G still hasn't called me yet. Maybe she slept in and didn't get the message because she didn't have time to check her emails. Yeah, maybe that's it.

Anyway, I have a conference call at 8:30 (which is why I'm eating my breakfast in my office) so I'll probably just watch the first ten minutes of GMA now and see how she's looking. Oh wait, it's starting…

Oh no.

Ryan…oh no….

_

* * *

_

You've reached the office of Taylor McKessie at Galton, Black and Allan. Please leave a message after the tone.

beep

_Taylor, it's Sharpay. Code Blue. Repeat, Code Blue._

* * *

From: Taylor McKessie

To: Sharpay Evans-Baylor

Subject: Code Blue?

Shar, my assistant just came into my meeting and handed me a word-for-word (she assures me) transcript of your voicemail. She thought it sounded serious.

What's going on? And more importantly, what does Code Blue mean?

Wait, it doesn't mean you're in labour, does it? DOES IT? Where are you? Are you on your own? Should I call Zeke?

CALL ME,

T xx

* * *

From: Sharpay Evans-Baylor

To: Taylor McKessie

Subject: re: Code Blue?

Wow, it genuinely never entered my head that you'd think I was in labour, although come to think of it, that's the most logical solution. Darn you and your logical, lawyer's head. No, I'm not in labour, and I'm sorry for worrying you. The Code Blue was in reference to Gabby's performance on GMA this morning. I don't know what's going on, but there's something seriously wrong. Try and catch a bit over lunch and tell me I'm wrong.

I'll keep you posted.

Speak to you later,

S x

* * *

From: Sharpay Evans-Baylor

To: Gabriella Montez

Subject: OK, now I AM checking up on you

So I just watched the first ten minutes of GMA. I realise that you're not going to be able to answer me until you finish the show, but you want to tell me what's going on?

S xx

* * *

From: Sharpay Evans-Baylor

To: Gabriella Montez

Subject: Gabby?

OK, so the show ended an hour ago. I've scanned the message boards on the GMA website and the ones relating to this morning all appear to reference your hair (nice, by the way), your boots (or rather, the boots I lent you when Zeke forbade me to be this pregnant and walk in heels that high) and Troy's ability to look hot in a Santa hat (uncanny). You've got Albuquerque fooled, Montez. Not me though.

Spill.

Call me.

* * *

From: Sharpay Evans-Baylor

To: Gabriella Montez

Subject: OK, that's it.

Screw it. I'm coming over.

* * *

From: Jon Breckin

To: Elliot Hunter

Subject: Care to share?

So Gabby just stopped by my office.

Apparently, she quit yesterday. She thought that someone might have told me. She was quite surprised, in fact, to come to work this morning and find that her director KNEW NOTHING ABOUT IT.

With all due respect, Elliot, what the hell were you thinking?

Jon

* * *

From: Mia Gardener

To: Jon Breckin

Subject: seriously?

Did she just say what I thought she just said?

* * *

From: Jon Breckin

To: Mia Gardener

Subject: re: seriously?

Mia, next time you have your ear pressed to my office door, bring me a coffee while you're out of your seat, would you?

Jon

PS: Yes

* * *

From: Mia Gardener

To: Jon Breckin

Subject: re: re: seriously?

Jon, you may not believe this, but I have better things to do than eavesdrop on your conversations. For your information, I was at the photocopier, which is right next to your office door. And even if I hadn't heard Gabs, I'd have heard you yell "YOU QUIT?" if I'd been down the corridor in the kitchen making you coffee. Which I'm not going to do now.

Mia

PS: Oh it is ON…

* * *

From: Zeke Baylor

To: Sharpay Evans-Baylor

Subject: Where are you?

Shar, not to play the anxious husband card, but where are you? I wouldn't fuss, except we were going to meet for lunch almost an hour ago, and when I rang the office, your assistants said you'd run off without telling anyone where you were going.

Call me when you get this?

Z xx

* * *

From: Sharpay Evans-Baylor

To: Zeke Baylor

Subject: re: Where are you?

Honey, I'm so sorry for worrying you, I'd totally forgotten we had lunch plans.

You know that I was hoping to get hold of Gabby this morning to make sure she was OK after cancelling on us yesterday? Well, she hadn't emailed or called by the time GMA was about to air, so as I had a little time to kill before my conference call, I switched it on for a little breakfast reconnaissance. And then nearly choked to death on my granola, because she was acting all 'normal' and 'perky' and 'festive' but something was clearly very, very wrong. Seems I am not one of the 99.9 per cent of the population who Gabby can fool into thinking she's fine. She was clearly not fine. And suddenly, her cancelling and then not calling me back took on a whole new meaning and I had to know what was going on so I tried calling her for about twenty minutes and emailed her a couple of times and got no response, so I took an early lunch (again, sorry about that) and drove over to the Studios, only to be told by Jaime that she'd just left. By this point, I was in full Nancy Drew mode and although I was still hoping that she'd gone out for lunch and left her cell in her office, I knew I wasn't going to be able to relax until I'd actually seen her and made sure she was OK. So, pretty much as a last resort, I swung by her house on my way back to the office, meaning to stick a note through her door to tell her to call me when she got in. I didn't really expect to see her car parked outside her building. And I didn't expect to have to use her spare key to bust in. And I certainly didn't expect to find her sitting on her sofa, crying.

CRYING, Zeke. She quit. Quit her job. It's still all pretty hazy at the moment, but here are the facts as I have them:

Gabby finds a piece in yesterday's_ Journal_ saying she is going to fill in for Jess Mansfield on Weekend GMA while Troy takes on Weekday GMA on his own. Convinced this is a load of baloney, she marches into Elliot's office where she is informed that it's not so much a load of baloney as something the board have been discussing. Also revealed to her is the fact that Troy knew this was happening and said nothing. G flips out (her words) and quits, effective this afternoon. She makes it back to her office before bursting into tears (for maybe the third time in our entire seventeen year acquaintance) and after a while (during which time she studiously avoids all forms of communication) leaves the office and drives home, where she calls me to cancel our dinner plans and then continues to avoid all forms of communication for the rest of the evening. She then goes into work this morning, and proceeds to make such a good job of presenting the show that no-one realises anything's wrong and she has to go tell Jon she quit because Elliot failed to pass on the message. She then leaves the office and drives home, getting in about half an hour before I bust in.

So that's it. She quit her dream job and I'm so angry I can barely type. I'm angry at the misogynistic pig of a board member who tried to tell her to stop overreacting and I'm angry at Elliot for letting this happen to someone I can only assume he used to be in love with but I'm mainly angry with Troy. And it's not the fact that she's sad (which she is) and it's not that she's angry (which she certainly should be) that is currently making me fantasise about kicking him through a window. It's the fact that she's broken. Troy _broke_ my friend, Zeke, he broke her right when she was in the middle of falling in love with him and I don't think I can forgive him.

I'll call you later,

S x

* * *

From: Zeke Baylor

To: Sharpay Evans-Baylor

Subject: re: re: Where are you?

Wait, what? She quit? She cried? She's in love with Troy?

Call me when you can, Shar, and give my love to Gabs if you're still with her…that's a point…where are you?

Z x

* * *

From: Sharpay Evans-Baylor

To: Zeke Baylor

Subject: re: re: re: Where are you?

Was, Zeke. Was. _Was_ falling in love with him. Although she'd probably deny it if you asked.

Seriously, how? How could he do this? I thought he _liked_ her. I thought they were making progress but this is _exactly_ what G said he'd do all those weeks ago and we all told her she was paranoid.

She'd be laughing in our faces right now if she wasn't crying.

Actually, I don't think she's crying now. Or, at least, I hope she's not. She got all antsy and went out for a run. Thankfully, I had left my laptop in the car this morning otherwise I'd either have had to go back to the office or attempt to edit the magazine on the back of an envelope, so I'm now working from Gabby's kitchen while she attempts to jog it all out of her system. Not sure how that one's going to fly, but we'll see.

Love you,

S xxx

* * *

From: Sharpay Evans-Baylor

To: Chad Danforth; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans; Kelsi Cross; Taylor McKessie; Zeke Baylor

Subject: Gabby

Attached: ABQJournalOnline/GMAsetforchange

Guys, this is a heads up, because Gabs wanted you to know in case the news gets leaked before she has a chance to tell you.

Long story short, she quit GMA. I don't know if you've seen the piece in _The Journal_ (attached) and if you did, chances are you dismissed it as hokum, but it's true. Or, at least, the board have been 'discussing it'. And to make it worse, it turns out that Troy knew about it and said nothing.

Yeah. I know.

Nothing's being announced until the New Year, when Gabs will make a brief statement on the first show of the new season saying that after many happy years, she's decided to move on but that she'll take many treasured memories with her yadda yadda yadda. Point is, she feels that 'quitting in a hail of bad press' rather than 'moving on to pastures new' would hurt the show. And she cares what happens to the show. Because she's classier than me. Anyway, I'm hoping that by then, she will have accepted one of what I'm assuming will be many lucrative job offers that will come her way once the world hears of ABQ Studios' utter lunacy in letting her go, and she (and if she won't, then I) will be able to rub it in Troy and Elliot's smug, smug faces.

Anyway, Gabby wanted you guys to know. She's out for a run right now or she'd have emailed you herself. Or not. I'm not convinced she wants to write the words "I quit my job" just yet. I'm going to try and get her to come to dinner with me and Z tonight, so hopefully, that will be why she won't be answering her phone if you try.

On a completely different topic, and just to recap our plans for the weekend, Zeke and I are taking both sets of parents out for dinner tomorrow (Z, remind me that I need to confirm our booking with Stella), and then we'll be going to the Live Nativity that Ry's organising. Then on Sunday, Zeke's doing brunch at 11ish and then dinner in the evening. We'd love it if you'd all come; this will be our last baby-free Christmas for a while, and while that's really exciting, I kind of want to make the most of it.

Though if course I won't be drinking. Thanks for nothing, Baylor.

S

xxxx

* * *

From: Zeke Baylor

To: Chad Danforth; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans; Kelsi Cross; Taylor McKessie; Sharpay Evans-Baylor

Subject: re: Gabby

Shar, you say that like it's my fault…

* * *

From: Ryan Evans

To: Chad Danforth; Jason Cross; Taylor McKessie; Kelsi Cross; Zeke Baylor; Sharpay Evans-Baylor

Subject: re: Gabby

She QUIT? Man, I did NOT see that one coming.

Though under the circumstances, it was really the only thing she could do.

Jaime's coming over for dinner tonight and I'm sure she'll send Gabs lots of love when she hears. As do I. Elliot's going to regret this.

See you all tomorrow.

Ry

* * *

From: Taylor McKessie

To: Chad Danforth; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans; Kelsi Cross; Zeke Baylor; Sharpay Evans-Baylor

Subject: re: Gabby

Speechless. With. Rage.

What's Elliot's email address?

Please give G my love, and tell her I'll call her tomorrow.

T xx

* * *

From: Kelsi Cross

To: Chad Danforth; Jason Cross; Ryan Evans; Zeke Baylor; Taylor McKessie; Sharpay Evans-Baylor

Subject: re: Gabby

I wonder if Elliot knows how many people will stop watching GMA when Gabby's not anchoring it any more.

Give Gabs a big hug from me, and tell her that this is just about the stupidest decision Elliot and the board could possibly have made and that we both send our love and will see her tomorrow. And if she could use a laugh, tell her that I just read your message in the queue at Starbucks, and shrieked so loud (thankfully completely unintelligibly) that one of the guys jumped and dropped a jug of steamed milk all over the floor. Which his colleague promptly slipped in, throwing a gingerbread latte all over herself.

Jase is coming over with our drinks now. I suspect he may have to tip generously.

K xx

_

* * *

_

Hi, you've reached Zeke and Sharpay. We're not in right now, but leave us a message and we'll get back to you. Thanks!

beep

_Guys, it's Troy. Look, I guess by now Gabby will have told you that she quit yesterday. At least I hope she's told you, because I do not want this to be the way you…damn…OK, so I think it's pretty much a no-brainer that I am not going to be welcome at Christmas dinner. I just didn't want you to be worrying that I was going to turn up and upset Gabby or anything, because I wouldn't…I wouldn't do that. OK, well, that's it. I'll see you around, I guess. Oh, and Merry Christmas._

* * *

From: Chad Danforth

To: Troy Bolton

Subject: no subject

Dude, what the hell?

OK, look, I'm not going to jump to conclusions straight away, because you and I go way back and you should have the chance to explain yourself.

You should know though that right now, as it stands, I'm not too sure how I'd argue against Taylor telling me to come over and kick your ass. Which she hasn't. But if she did, I don't know what I'd say. And I'm a _lawyer_, dude. Hoops, what the hell were you thinking? What was all that about on our bike ride? I thought you _liked_ her.

You've got to make this right, Troy. I can't say that relationship advice is ever something I have ever excelled at, but if she means as much to you as I think she does, then you've got to do something about it before it's too late.

Chad

* * *

From: Troy Bolton

To: Chad Danforth

Subject: re: no subject

I screwed up, man.

I've got no excuse, no explanation. Certainly nothing that could possibly make you want to side with me over Gabby. And if you did, I'd kick _your_ ass.

I made her cry, Chad. I made her quit and then I made her _cry_. What kind of person does that?

I'm going to fix this.

Troy

* * *

From: Troy Bolton

To: Elliot Hunter

Subject: urgent

Elliot, we need to talk.

Troy

* * *

_I can tell I am experiencing writer's block when even a simple author's note leaves me searching for words. Thankfully, I just made myself tea and possibly the best peanut butter chocolate chip cookies EVER, and they're still warm from the oven and I can feel the words coming back…_

_Sweet biscuits, guys, you're still here! And it's been months! Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading / reviewing / messaging me (delete as applicable). You're all brilliant._

_Thanks (as always) to Mo (Gemma Craven to my Annette Crosbie) who 'helped out' by writing the last paragraph of the story for me. Not of this post, of the final, as yet unwritten last chapter. Remind me to share it with you once this is all over, it has the words 'snorkel' and 'globular' in it._


	24. One More Sleep

**One more sleep**

"So then, the shepherds enter and…wait…" Ryan, standing in the stable erected early that morning in the middle of the Old Town Plaza, performed a swift head count and reached for his walkie-talkie. "Cassie, I cast five shepherds, right? Great, so how come there are only three now? They said they were going _where_? In _costume_?" He paused for a second, pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing deeply. "Go find them, would you? Thanks, Cass." He hooked the walkie-talkie back on his belt with a groan that caused the donkey tethered nearby to look up in alarm.

"Problems, Evans?"

Ryan turned, and his eyes brightened. "Gabby! Just the person!"

Gabby looked a little taken aback. "I'm just the person for what?" she asked, suspiciously. "Because I'm not playing Mary again, Ry. The last time you organised this thing, you made me fill in at the last minute and I nearly caught pneumonia."

"If by 'nearly caught pneumonia', you mean 'ate a three course meal afterwards at _Flor_ and made me give you a lift home afterwards', then yes, I remember it perfectly." Ryan grinned, the tension visibly leaving his face. "No, it's more of an…assignment I need you for…"

"Cool." Gabby flexed her fingers expectantly. "Whaddya need me for? Turning up hems? Feeding livestock? Bedazzling a wise man's cape? Wrangling donkeys?"

"What would you say if I asked you actually go wrangle donkeys?" Ryan grinned. "No, my problem's kind of like those Puzzle Adventure books you and I used to get out of the library at school when we were kids. You know, _Ryan has lost some of his cast members in Albuquerque. Can you find them, Junior Puzzlers?_"

Gabby raised an eyebrow. "So would this be anything to do with the two dudes in robes I just saw buying coffee in Starbucks?" She held out a takeaway cup to him by way of explanation. "Flat white, one sugar."

"Mind reader." Ryan accepted the cup and took a sip. "Excellent. You already spotted them. You were always good at those puzzles. I sent the new student teacher out to find them, but my instinct tells me that Gabriella Montez might have more success in rounding them up."

"Why Gabriella Montez? Because of her awesome Puzzling skills?" Gabby hopped off the hay bale on which she had been perching.

"Well, that and the fact that they were asking me if you were coming tonight." He grinned infuriatingly. "I think they liiiike you."

"Really?" Gabby pulled a face. "I think I'd rather stay here and do some bedazzling."

"You can come back here and help Anya with the costumes when you've successfully extracted my shepherds from Starbucks." said Ryan soothingly, pointing her in the right direction and patting her on the shoulder. "Off you go, Junior Puzzler!"

"And how would the UNM Drama faculty feel about providing some pastries for the unpaid workers selflessly giving up their Christmas Eve to provide joy and festive wonderment to the people of Albuquerque?"

"Favourable. If the unpaid workers stop bugging me about festive wonderment." Ryan tossed her his wallet. "Get me an apricot danish, would you? Oh," he yelled after her as she made her way across the Plaza, "And tell my shepherds that if they spill their latte down their robes, they're paying for express dry cleaning."

Twenty minutes later, having found considerable success in pointing out to the caffeine dependant shepherds not only that Ryan was counting on them to do a good job but that he'd also be marking their midterms, Gabby made her way back from Starbucks, stopping in at _Felicci_ for pastries. Her phone rang as she was preparing to leave and, her arms being full of large paper bags, would have carried on ringing had Nic not leant over the counter, fished it out of Gabby's pocket and answered it after a swift glance at the caller display.

"Sharpay? Hi, it's Nic Felicci. Yeah, Gabs is kind of trapped under a pile of pastries right now, can she call you back? She's only going round the corner, so five minutes? Great. Merry Christmas sweetheart." She hung up and dropped the phone back into Gabby's pocket.

"Thanks Nic, you're a lifesaver." Gabby smiled gratefully.

Nic shrugged off her thanks. "Any time. Is Sharpay OK? Or rather, are you OK? She sounded concerned."

Gabby sighed. "No, I'm sure she's fine. It's just that work's been a bit…stressful for me lately and Shar's probably just checking up on me."

"Stressful?" Nic frowned. "You're not working too hard, are you sweetie? You know you can always come talk to me or Marc if you need to, right?"

As successful and independent as she was, if she was honest with herself, there had been at least five times in the past two days that Gabby had wished for her Mom. Knowing that her parents were by now with Diego and Milla in Vermont hadn't made this any easier, but she knew that Nic was the next best thing. "Yeah," she nodded, hoping that she didn't look as close to tears as she suddenly felt, "I do. Thanks Nic."

She got back to the Plaza to find rehearsals underway, the shepherds having returned from their coffee break. Leaving the pastries with Cassie and her student assistants, she went to give Ryan back his wallet, having kept back an apricot danish for him and an almond croissant for herself.

"One apricot danish, one wallet and two rather sheepish shepherds."

"See what you did there, Montez, very clever." Ryan looked up from the script on his lap. "Oh, _Felicci_ pastries? Nice one, Junior Puzzler."

Gabby grinned. "Thank you. I'll be at your service for donkey wrangling and cape bedazzling just as soon as I've called your sister back. I think she's checking up on me."

Ryan waved a hand vaguely. "Sure. Thank Zeke for the cookies, would you?"

* * *

Sharpay answered on the second ring. "_Hey_," she said, "_So you're hanging with Ry this morning?_"

"Yes," Gabby took a bite of croissant "I thought I'd do my festive good deed for the day."

"_And eat Nic's pastries?_"

"And eat Nic's pastries."

"_And avoid thinking about work?_"

Gabby made a face. "That too. Speaking of which, thanks again for dinner last night."

"_Are you kidding? It was great! I knew there was a reason why I bought the Buffy box set._"

"Yeah, but I've never seen Zeke leave the room so fast."

"_You weren't there when Tay and I decided to watch Sex and the City: The Movie._"

"To be fair, I'm quite glad I wasn't there for that either."

Sharpay laughed. "_You have a point. So,_" she said, dextrously changing the subject as only she knew how, "_how are you doing today?_"

Gabby smiled. "It's really sweet of you to check on me, but honestly Shar, I'm fine. I mean, obviously, I'd rather I still had a job, and I'd rather not have been sold down the river by some raving misogynist and my former boyfriend and the guy who…whatever…anyway, I'd rather that _hadn't_ happened, but it's Christmas and I'm not going to let those Festive Naysayers crush my spirit. I'm like Cindy Lou Who, Sharpay," Gabby warmed to her theme, "and Elliot's Mayor Maywho."

"_Uhuh._" Sharpay sounded unconvinced.

"I'm Bob Cratchit and Elliot's Ebenezer Scrooge."

"_And that makes you…Kermit the Frog?_"

"And Elliot's Michael Caine, yes. Point is, I'm not going to be seeing Elliot or Troy any time very soon, but if I spend all Christmas wallowing in self-pity, I might as well be seeing them."

"_True._"

"So for the next few days, I'm going to avoid thinking about GMA and I'm going to avoid the papers in case the news has leaked, and I'm going to spend time with people who are much too busy to read them anyhow."

Sharpay sighed. "_People like me?_"

Gabby grinned, but attempted to inject a little sympathy into her voice. "Oh right, your Mom and Dad. Did they arrive very early?"

"_Ry dropped them off at seven. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents and I'm stoked that they've made the trip out here to see us, but I could maybe have done with a couple more hours to get my game face on, you know?_"

"And have Zeke's parents arrived too?"

"_Z's picking them up later. Their flight should get in at two, so they're coming for a late lunch._"

"And…you're cooking?"

Gabby could almost hear her friend narrowing her eyes. "_I'll have you know that Zeke's Mom called me an instinctive and self-taught cook, Montez, and she edited Ina Garten's last cook book._"

"How could I forget? You practically put it on your CV."

"_I did n…OK, actually, I did consider it. But that was only when I knew that the company that owned Lifestyle also owned Gourmet magazine. I thought it would give me an edge._"

"So what's for lunch?"

"_Actually, we're eating at Flor tonight, so lunch'll probably be whatever soup of Zeke's I can find in the freezer, and some bread and cheese. Are you sure you don't want to come over? I'm sure everyone would love to see you._"

"And I'm really looking forward to seeing them too, but you don't need an extra person to feed right now. Plus," Gabby's attention was drawn by Ryan's frantic waving on the other side of the Plaza, "I think your brother's either communicating something to his cast by semaphore, or he's lost the power of speech."

"_Oh man, you'd better go sort him out._"

"I will. He said to thank Zeke for the cookies, by the way."

"_Ah, bribery. So worth it._"

Gabby laughed. "You should get that on a T-shirt."

* * *

While from a distance, it had appeared that Ryan was flailing his arms around for no reason, as Gabby approached, his problem became clear. Somehow, in the confusion of rehearsal, the gate across the entrance of the stable had been left open, and the sheep, borrowed for the day from the Albuquerque City Farm, had got out.

"Someone make sure they can't get onto the road!" yelled Ryan vaulting a pile of hay bales and, after a certain amount of undignified dodging and weaving, herding the first two unwilling sheep back into the stable. "Mike," he clapped a hand onto the shoulder of a passing student dressed as a wise man, "stay on the gate here and make sure it's only open when there's a sheep heading towards it."

The cast fanned out across the Plaza, some deterring the sheep from heading down passageways or into the path of cars, and some in active pursuit.

"Two on the band stand!"

"I'm on it!"

"There's one over there near the trees!"

"I've got it, I've…ah, missed…"

"It's coming to you, Dave, catch it, catch it!"

"How many are there?" Gabby shouted over her shoulder as she headed for the group on the band stand. "Either I've seen the same one six times or there are about thirteen!"

"There are five still out!" Their handler from the City Farm shouted back, and dived for one as it dashed past, just missing it as it disappeared behind the stable. "Ryan! She's coming round to you!"

"On it…OUF!" A moment later, Ryan appeared, carrying the small, struggling escape artist. "Good thing she's a little one," he muttered, returning it to the stable, "She nearly dislocated my knee running into it at that speed."

In the next ten minutes, the rest of the escapees were captured and returned to their pen, or at least cornered until someone in more suitable dress could come to help. This last rule was enforced by Anya who, in her role as head of the costume department, stalked the Plaza with a megaphone, uttering terrifying threats to any angels or wise men looking like they might be even thinking of going near a sheep. As a result, the only repairs needed were minor, and even they were to costumes that, as Ryan pointed out, "should probably not have looked too pristine anyhow. But the _really_ good news," he continued, as the cast gathered round, "is that none of the sheep found these!" He held aloft one of the paper bags from _Felicci_. "I don't know what exactly counts as a Christmas Miracle, you'd probably want to check with Gabby over there for that, but for the purposes of this exercise, I'm claiming it as one. Dig in, guys, you've earned a break. Back in fifteen, OK?"

"Hey," he went to join Gabby on her hay bale, "so thanks for showing up this morning, Montez."

Gabby shrugged. "No problem. It's nice to help out."

"Sheep chasing and all?"

She grinned. "Even the sheep chasing. I now no longer feel the need for a jog this afternoon."

They were interrupted by the girl playing Mary who approached them cautiously. "Ms Montez? Hi, my name's Tess. I just wanted to say that I'm a huge fan."

Gabby smiled. "Thanks Tess, that's really sweet of you."

Encouraged by her reception, Tess elaborated. "Yeah, I just love you on GMA, it's such a great show. Some day, I want to have the exact same job as you."

Gabby bit back her immediate response, in which she would have told Tess that she could _have_ the exact same job as her if she applied for it in the New Year when it became available, and smiled politely as Tess asked part one of the question she had been dreading.

"Would you mind very much if I asked for your autograph?"

"Not at all." Gabby took the pen and paper offered, and signed her name, all the while willing Tess not to ask part two.

_Don't do it, Tess, don't do it, don't…_

"And do you think you could get me Troy Bolton's?"

_Damn._

Out of the corner of her eye, Gabby caught the ghost of a wince cross Ryan's face as she handed the autograph back. "Honestly Tess," she tried to keep her voice as cheery and conversational as she could, "I'm probably not going to see Troy over the holidays, and I'd hate to forget that you asked me. The best thing to do would probably be to get in touch with the Publicity Department at the Studios, and they'll be able to help you out. Is that OK?"

"Sure!" Tess smiled happily, pocketing her pen and paper, "Thanks, Ms Montez!"

"You're welcome." Gabby sighed as Tess walked away, adding so only Ryan could hear, "Glad I could help."

Ryan let out a deep breath. "You OK, G?"

Gabby pulled face. "Yeah, fine. Just trying to recapture my spirit of festive wonderment."

"It took a little detour, huh?"

"Yes, apparently imagining kicking Troy in the head is not an especially festive activity."

"It's more festive than _actually_ kicking him in the head."

"It's a close one."

"Would it help if I told you that Anya's assistant is finishing the wise men's capes at the moment?"

Gabby sat up straight. "Festive bedazzling?"

Ryan shrugged. "Well, Anya and her team are professional costumiers, so they'd probably be happier with the term 'adornment', but basically, yeah."

Gabby studied her friend for a moment. "Sometimes, Evans, I think you know me _too_ well."

* * *

By the early evening, the elementary school children who would be singing carols around the stable had arrived and rehearsed, completing what Ryan had begun referring to as The Triple Threat (college students, children and animals). Happily, there were no further unscheduled coffee breaks or escape attempts, and even the school children managed to keep a lid on their intense Christmas Eve excitement enough to sit (more or less) still and remember their words. As the final carol finished, and UNM drama students began circulating with mulled apple cider, Gabby went in search of Ryan. She found him by the stable, looking exhausted with his arm around Jaime.

"Nice work, Evans, I reckon that's the best one yet."

Ryan groaned and Jaime glanced at him with a smile and explained. "The Dean has already been over to tell him how _marvellous_ it was and how he absolutely _must_ do it again next year."

Gabby shrugged. "Ah, that's the price you pay for being brilliant, Ry, you're just going to have learn to live with your genius."

"Who's a genius?" Sharpay and her mother came up to join them. "Surely not Evans here?"

"Don't you listen to your sister, darling," Darby Evans, looking as effortlessly elegant as always in a cream cashmere coat and scarf, gave him a kiss, "it was beautiful. Oh, Gabby!" she suddenly noticed who Ryan had been talking to, "How are you, sweetheart?"

"I'm well thank you, Darby," Gabby gave her a careful hug so as not to spill cider all over what had to be an extremely expensive coat. "Looking forward to seeing you all tomorrow."

"Oh that's right, Sharpay said you'd be joining us for the day. Listen darling," Darby stepped closer and spoke confidentially, "She also told me what's been going on for you at GMA, I hope you don't mind."

Gabby shook her head. "No, that's fine. I'd rather you all knew, actually."

Darby looked relieved. "I'm glad. All the same," She frowned. "I wish there was something I could do to help. Vance used to play golf with a couple of ABQ Studio board members, but it's been years since we even exchanged Christmas cards, let alone saw them…"

"Mom, I'm sure Gabby doesn't want Dad making a call." Ryan interrupted hastily, but Gabby stopped him.

"No, that's really kind, Darby, but I'll be fine."

"Well of course you will!" Darby looked outraged. "You're going to have every TV station from here to Phoenix knocking on your door, but I just wanted to try and find a way for GMA to keep you. You're the best thing that ever happened to that show and they're _mad_ to let you go!"

"If it's any consolation, G," said Jaime, "Elliot looked like he'd been hit in the head with a shovel after that meeting."

"Good." Sharpay nodded, satisfied, and turned to Gabby. "I know you're trying not to think about it for a bit, but while we're talking about it, have you heard from…anyone?"

Sharpay's question was vague, but Gabby knew who she meant by 'anyone'. She shook her head. "After our last off-screen conversation? I don't think so. I've missed a couple of calls from Elliot today, though. Not that I'd have answered it if I'd seen it ringing," she added, "I've not seen him since I told him I quit."

"I tell you, if it wasn't for the fact that I promised Zeke I would try not to do anything that could adversely affect my blood pressure…" Sharpay trailed off menacingly.

Gabby patted her arm. "I know, Shar. And don't think I don't appreciate it. But I'd really like to get through the next month or so without my best friend being arrested for assault. And I think her husband would agree with me on that."

"Speaking of Zeke…" Darby placed a hand on her daughter's arm.

"Oh, right, yes!" Sharpay started. "We left Zeke and Dad talking with Cris Flores about the best way to maple glaze a turkey. Or something. Anyway, Zeke's bad enough, but Dad's started taking cookery courses since he retired, and the sheer volume of cookery-related facts he seems to have absorbed in the last year is really kind of baffling. If Cris hasn't got away yet, he may just be contemplating burning _Flor_ down, just to get them out."

Gabby grinned and gave Darby a hug. "Give Vance my love and tell him I'm looking forward to seeing him tomorrow. Theo and Renée, too. Unless any of you are planning on coming to midnight mass later?"

"Honestly, G, I could hardly keep my eyes open over dinner," said Sharpay regretfully, "so I can't speak for anyone else, but I'll probably have been asleep for about two and half hours by the time you're getting ready to go."

Darby nodded. "Vance and I got in on quite an early flight this morning…"

"Oh, right," Gabby tried to hide her smile, "yeah, I think Ry might have mentioned that…"

"I have no doubt." Darby fixed her son with a look. "So I should think we'll probably be turning in early as well. But we'll see you tomorrow, yes?"

"Absolutely. Oh, Ry?" Gabby turned to leave, but remembered something. "I know this is kind of premature, but I thought of a great title for your Nativity next year."

"Really?" Ryan, reading her expression, looked suspicious.

"Yeah, it came to me earlier." Gabby framed the words in the air. "_One More Sheep 'Til Christmas_." And she walked away, laughing.

* * *

The sky had cleared while the Nativity was going on, and as Gabby walked home, she was more thankful than ever that she had switched her jacket from earlier in the day for her thickest winter coat. She had paused at the archway to her courtyard to admire the stars when someone coming out of the courtyard walked straight into her.

"Oh I'm so sorry…"

"No, no, that was my fault, I wasn't looking where I was…oh." She stopped short. "Elliot."

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Gabby."

They stood in silence for a moment, before Elliot spoke. "I…er…came to see if you were in."

"I wasn't."

"You were at the Nativity in the Old Town, I suppose?"

"That's right."

Elliot shifted from foot to foot. "So, I…I've tried to call you a couple of times today."

"Yeah, I've been pretty busy."

"I figured."

Another silence, then, "What did you want, Elliot?"

Elliot passed a hand through his hair. "I wanted to talk to you."

Gabby fought to keep her cool. "About GMA? About Troy? I think I pretty much covered it in the letter I left for you."

"Yes. The letter. Look, that's what I wanted to talk to you about really. I know you're angry and upset, but I wouldn't be any kind of boss if I accepted your resignation without talking to you first."

Gabby frowned. "What could we possibly say to each other that could make a difference now? Unless maybe you fired Ray Bradshaw…"

"Actually, now that you mention it…yes."

"What?" This fact effectively cleared Gabby's mind of everything she had been about to say. "Seriously?"

"Well," Elliot spread his hands. "Not fired exactly, let's just say there was an emergency board meeting last night, and it was decided that it would be in the best interest of the Studios for Ray to retire."

Gabby blinked. "Wow."

Elliot shook his head. "He had no right to talk to the papers like that. And what's worse, he knew exactly what he was doing. It…" he paused awkwardly, "I know how hurtful it must have been to walk into that meeting, but it's important that you know that before Ray talked to the papers, your name had been attached to the anchor replacement on Weekend GMA because, and I'm not just saying this," he shrugged, "you're the best we have. And even then, you'd only been mentioned to show the kind of person we needed to hire. But once your name had come up, Ray just sort of seized it and ran with it. He'd always been one of Troy's biggest fans, I knew that, but it wasn't until I saw how he treated you at the meeting the other day that I realised what he was doing." He looked hard at the floor for a moment and then up at her. "I really let you down, Gabby. I know I tried to rationalise it, but I put the Studios' interests way, way above yours, and I'm so sorry."

Gabby opened her mouth to speak, and shut it again. Elliot, taking advantage of her inability to find coherent words, continued. "Which brings me to why I'm here. And why I've been trying to call you today." He reached inside his coat, pulled out a folded copy of the _Albuquerque Journal_ and handed it to her, pointing to the article he had circled. "I figured you'd probably be spending the next couple days avoiding the papers, but you have to read this." He looked surprised. "You're smiling."

"I know." Gabby shook her head. "It's just…ironic. I guess you know me better than I thought you did." And unfolding the paper, she began to read.

_**Studio Sets the Record Straight**_

_As journalists, we hate printing retractions. It means we got something wrong. And while this retraction is no different, and while there's a part of us that still wishes it hadn't happened, we at the Journal hope that the news we impart is good news to many Albuquerquians, for whom the subject of this article is as familiar a figure at the breakfast table as the toast rack or the coffee pot. _

_Two days ago, we detailed the upcoming personnel changes at ABQ Studios, reporting that Gabriella Montez will soon jump shows to co-anchor Weekend GMA when Jess Mansfield leaves in January. Today, sources at the Studios have gone on the record, stating that Mario Benitez will present the weekend show with a series of guest anchors while a permanent replacement is found, and that under no circumstances will Gabriella Montez be moving from Weekday GMA. _

_Speaking exclusively to this paper last night, Studio Executive Elliot Hunter made his feelings very clear. "There is no doubt that Jess Mansfield's replacement will have very big shoes to fill, and we are committed to finding the very best replacement possible, but to suggest that Gabriella Montez is to switch shows is categorically untrue. Gabriella has anchored Good Morning Albuquerque for the last four years, and has become one of the city's most recognisable and treasured TV personalities, and I would like to extend my apologies to her for the embarrassment that this has caused."_

_Applications for the Weekend GMA anchor post will be accepted from January; details will be featured in the Journal's Job-Seeking pages and can also be found on the ABQ Studios website._

"Well?"

At Elliot's anxious enquiry, Gabby looked up with a start, and realised that she had read the article at least four times. Wordlessly, she refolded the paper and held it out to him, but he shook his head.

"No, I want you to have it."

"Oh."

"It's true, Gabby, all of it's true." Elliot's voice was as earnest as she had ever heard it. "I know I've not given you any reason to believe me, but I meant absolutely everything I said in that article. The fact that you were ever in the position where you felt that quitting was your only option is reason enough for you to walk away from GMA, but I can't tell you how much I want you to stay. You don't have to decide right now, but please tell me that you'll at least consider not quitting. You have to let us try and make this right."

Tearing her eyes from the paper, Gabby looked up at him and nodded slowly. "OK."

Hope sprang into Elliot's eyes. "OK? You'll stay?"

Gabby nodded. "OK, I'll _consider_ staying. I'll think about it."

"Thank you." Elliot let out a relieved breath.

"I mean," Gabby continued cautiously, "I'm not sure how I'm going to work with Troy, but if I do stay, I guess we can work that out."

Elliot looked hard at her for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to say something or not. Finally, he made up his mind. "He turned it down, you know."

"What?" Gabby frowned. "He turned what down?"

"The job. Presenting GMA on his own. Ray invited him to Monday's board meeting without asking anyone else, and practically offered him the job then and there." He shook his head. "I should have shut it down right then, or at the very least, I should have told you what was going on, but I guess I knew how you'd react and I was hoping that I could talk to Ray over the holidays and make him see sense. Anyway, I thought it was all over when Troy came back to us the next day and said that he wanted to continue anchoring the show with you." He shook his head. "I should have realised that Ray wasn't done. I think he was hoping to somehow woo Troy into taking the job by setting you up with what he saw as an equally good job. Your views didn't seem to register with him." He sighed. "Anyhow, it didn't work. But by that time, you'd quit, and I was facing hiring two new presenters…"

She frowned again in confusion. "Two?"

"Yes, Troy came to see me yesterday evening and told me that he'd quit before he was painted as the kind of person who swooped in and stole someone else's job. So we worked out a plan to get you back." He leaned forward and tapped the paper in her hands. "Or to try, at least."

"Troy?" Gabby shook her head slowly. "Troy was involved with this?"

The ghost of a smile flitted across Elliot's face, and for a delirious second, Gabby thought he was about to say "_WELL DUH_…" Instead, he nodded. "Yes, he was. Though 'involved' is rather understating it. I mean, I gave the quote, but Troy called the paper and persuaded them to print a retraction and set up the interview and…he practically wrote it. Or he might as well have, the article says exactly what he said to me in my office yesterday."

Gabby smiled, despite herself. "Even the part about the coffee pot and toast rack?"

"Especially that part." Elliot smiled back, and shivered suddenly. "Hey, did you hear? They were talking on the radio about snow this morning."

"_Snow_? Here in the city?" Gabby widened her eyes in surprise.

"That's what they said." Elliot pulled on a pair of gloves and checked his watch. "Well, I guess I should let you go."

Gabby nodded. "We'll freeze if we stand here much longer. Elliot…" she chose her words carefully, "thank you for coming to see me. Truly. I know it can't have been easy. And thank you for this." She indicated the paper in her hand. "It's still not a definite, absolute _yes_, but I really will think about it."

Elliot nodded, smiling. "That's all I wanted to hear. And…" He started to say something else, but stopped.

"And…?" Gabby prompted.

He shook his head as if he couldn't quite believe what he was saying. "Troy's a good guy. And he put you first, which is something I'm not sure I ever did." He bent and kissed her swiftly on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Gabby."

And he left her, standing under the archway to her courtyard, a newspaper in her hand and an astonished expression on her face.

The rest of the evening passed in a daze. As she found a seat near the front of the luminaria-lit church for midnight mass, Gabby vaguely recalled wrapping up the last of her Christmas presents, making herself a plate of pasta, drinking a glass of wine, watching _It's a Wonderful Life_ on TV. All these recollections were fuzzy and indistinct compared to her meeting with Elliot. In those few minutes, he had changed everything: the way she felt about the show, about him, about Troy. It was almost irritating. There she had been, perfectly happy in wishing never to see Troy Bolton again in this world or the next, and all it took was one newspaper article and one visit from her ex-boyfriend (of all people), and BAM! The nefarious, pompous job-stealer became a considerate, sensitive job-_saver_? And where did that leave her? With an unaccepted resignation, a job to go back to if she wanted it, and a co-worker who made her want to both kiss him and whack him in the head with a bat. At the same time. She shook herself slightly and forced herself to pay attention, knowing she would regret it if she didn't. Midnight mass was one of the Montez family Christmas traditions so mocked by her friends earlier in the month, and though the family was now spread across the country, it was a tradition that the various members tried to keep up in their various cities. Knowing that at that precise moment, her Mom and Dad would be sitting in church in Vermont with Diego and Milla somehow made her feel like they weren't all so very far away after all.

As the service drew to a close and people began to leave, she kept her seat, knowing that there would be plenty people who would want to wish her a merry Christmas but also ask about the article in the _Journal_. Instead, she sat back for a moment, breathing in the familiar smells of cool stone, pine needles and incense, and appreciating the gradual hush. Like the rest of the buildings in the Old Town, the church was decorated beautifully for Christmas. Great swathes of greenery (reminding Gabby unhelpfully of the bough above her front door) stretched into the rafters, lit dimly by glowing luminarias on every available surface, and the white lights from the huge Christmas tree.

In previous years, she had used the midnight mass as a quiet spot in an otherwise hectic few days, but this year, with her family miles away in Vermont, her calendar, normally covered with post-its and To Do Lists at this time of year, was uncharacteristically blank. Why then, at the end of one of the quietest Christmas Eves in her memory, did she feel like she had just run a half marathon? Was it the sheep chasing? Possible. Worrying about the Live Nativity on Ryan's behalf? Unlikely. Thinking about her co-anchor near incessantly for almost a week only to have her heart brutally crushed? Understandable. Having her previously held views on said co-anchor completely altered by ex-boyfriend in bizarre act of charity? Frustrating.

By now, the noise in the church had died down to a faint buzz, and with her toes getting colder and colder in her boots (despite two pairs of socks), she got to her feet and started towards the door. The church wasn't quite empty; there were a couple at the back talking to the minister, and a few still sitting in pews. Feeling a little guilty at her antisocial behaviour, she glanced at them as she passed, meaning to make eye contact and smile, maybe wish them a merry Christmas. It was then, as she passed an elderly lady and her granddaughter, that her eye wandered down the church to where Troy Bolton was sitting. And she understood what all those romantic heroines meant when they said that their hearts had skipped a beat. The sight of him was the visual equivalent of someone ripping a rug out from under her feet. What on earth was he doing there? Given the enthusiasm with which he had thrown himself into the Craft Workshop and the Christmas events in the city, she wouldn't have put it past him to come to a midnight mass out of curiosity, or a desire for a new cultural experience. If that was the reason he'd come, though, wouldn't he be chatting with the minister now? Wouldn't he be shaking hands and wishing the remaining members of the congregation a happy holiday? Instead, he was sitting quietly in the dim light, looking down at his hands and wearing, if she wasn't mistaken, the exact expression she'd seen cross his face a number of times in the past weeks. Her curiosity nearly got the better of her, but after she'd interrogated him about why he was sitting in church at midnight on Christmas Eve looking like he did, she knew she would feel duty-bound to move on to other topics. Topics such as her thinking he'd engineered to steal her job. His failure to defend himself sufficiently. Her slapping him. Quitting. His efforts to get her job back for her and his apparent disinterest in receiving any credit for it.

He didn't look up as she passed, and so she went out into the freezing night air, her hands deep in her pockets and Elliot's words circling round and round: _I really let you down, Gabby…I can't tell you how much I want you to stay…you have to let us try and make this right…he turned it down, you know…Troy's a good guy… he put you first…_


	25. Christmas Past

**Christmas Past**

From: Gabriella Montez

To: Diego Montez; Milla Hayes-Montez

Subject: Merry Christmas!

I realise you're both living in the same house, but I'm sending you both this email because I don't know which of you will check your emails first. Whoever gets up with the girls, I'm guessing.

Anyway, I'll call later, but I just wanted to wish you all a very, very merry Christmas. And Mil, I know we've talked about this, but remember: if Mom makes some kind of festive snack and it's totally gross, you must not give in to your good manners and say "Oh Maria, that was so delicious, you must give me the recipe." Just remember the peppermint eggnog.

Did you hear that we might get snow? I mean in the city and not just up on the hills? I'm not sure I remember the last time it did that. Anyhow, snow or not, it's really, really cold here, though I know I can't compete with you on that front. I just checked the weather and it says you guys had another snowfall last night.

Man, I can't WAIT to see you all. We are building a snowman FIRST thing when I arrive next week.

G xxx

* * *

From: Diego Montez

To: Gabriella Montez

Subject: re: Merry Christmas!

Hey sis! Merry Christm…wait a second…you're two hours behind us in New Mexico, right?…G, you're emailing us at _quarter to five in the morning_?

Why, Gabby, why? I didn't even know that quarter to five in the morning _existed_ until we had the girls. And you're on _holiday_ now. What are you doing up so early? And don't say work; if you say work I'm telling Mom. Or worse: Sharpay.

D

* * *

From: Gabriella Montez

To: Diego Montez

Subject: re: Merry Christmas!

No, not work. I just couldn't sleep. And not because I was lying in wait for Santa, before you ask, I've just had a lot on my mind. It's a long and not especially interesting story, and I'll tell you all about it when I see you next week, but the short version is that work's been…interesting. It's going to be OK (though if you'd asked me that same question less than 12 hours ago, I might have been less optimistic), but it's still been kind of stressful. And D, play down the stress part of that when Mom asks how I'm doing, would you? The last thing I want is for her to spend the next couple of days worrying that her daughter is near-suicidal on the other side of the country. I'm absolutely fine (apart from the slight sleep-deprivation) and I'm spending the day at Shar and Zeke's.

Lots of love to all of you, and especially those of you that have been up since the early hours. I'm guessing you and the girls, right?

Gabs xx

* * *

From: Diego Montez

To: Gabriella Montez

Subject: re: Merry Christmas!

Aly's still sleeping, but Kate's been up since six and says hi. Or she will when she can talk. They've both learned some really cool stuff since you last saw them; Kate has this great bit where she waves her hands about and makes herself go cross-eyed, and Aly likes putting her feet in her mouth. It's hilarious.

Sorry to hear work's been stressing you out, Gabs, but I'm glad you're sounding positive about it. So it all turned around in the last 12 hours, huh? You always were on the lookout for a Christmas Miracle…

I was so shocked at you being up at 4:45 on Christmas morning that I blanked the part of your email about the snow. I don't think I remember it ever snowing in Albuquerque; we always had to go find our snow up on the foothills if we wanted some. And yeah, we had more snow yesterday, thankfully not too much or we would have got stuck at church last night.

Oh, and re: the snowman making, supplies have been assembled, and are waiting for your arrival.

Merry Christmas sis, talk to you later,

D x

* * *

"…honestly, Mom, I'm fine. I mean, it's weird not being with you guys of course…no, I can't wait either…OK, so I'll call you tomorrow. Yeah, and I'll email my flight details to D…OK, I will, and I'm sure they'll send their love to you to too…give everyone my love and tell Milla that I need pictures of the girls in their Christmas dresses…yeah, and everyone here said to say hi...I love you too, Mom…OK, bye."

Gabby stifled a yawn as she slid her cell phone into the pocket of her coat, and drawing her feet up onto her seat, stared out at Sharpay and Zeke's darkening garden. She had come out onto the veranda to phone her family in the hope that the late afternoon chill would wake her up, but to no avail. She yawned again. The events of the previous week, with Elliot's bombshell and Troy's strange appearance at the midnight service had combined to make the very idea of sleep on Christmas Eve a distant and unlikely prospect. She had fallen into bed at just past one in the morning confidently expecting to be asleep in minutes, and yet every time she felt herself dropping off, she'd hear Elliot's words again, and would be struck with an infuriating desire to analyse them. For a while, she had attempted to convince her brain that lying awake and obsessing would not provide the answers she was looking for, without success. Finally, having tried soothing herself with herbal tea and boring herself with the Studio's Annual Financial Report, she had fallen asleep in front of_ Miracle on 34th Street_, waking several hours later with early morning sunshine in her eyes and a crick in her neck.

Still working the kinks out of that crick, she stretched her legs out to rest them on the basket chair opposite hers and took a sip of coffee from the huge mug that had been pushed into her hands as Taylor caught her putting on her coat to go outside. Sleep deprivation aside, it had been a lovely day so far. Lovelier than she would have thought possible, if she was honest. After a really cold run and a really hot bath, she had spent a happy few hours in the kitchen listening to all the Christmas music on her laptop and making muffins to add to the brunch at Zeke and Sharpay's. She had been sent the recipe that morning by _Martha Stewart's Festive Countdown_, having been signed up for daily emails by her mother, who clearly felt her daughter was in danger of losing her Holiday Spirit. It had been a while since she had made time for baking, and she had forgotten how relaxing she found it. She had spent almost the entire night over-thinking, but with the fairy lights lit, an orange zester in her hand and the kitchen full of the smell of cinnamon and brown sugar, all the questions that had been circling over and over the night before seemed somehow less...important.

When she arrived at the Baylors' house, Sharpay, Taylor and Kelsi had met her at the front door, ostensibly to help unloading boxes from the car, but really to interrogate her about the _Journal_ article, which Kelsi had read late the previous night, and had brought round that morning for clarification. Gabby had given them the short version: that Elliot had apologised, both in person and in print, and had asked her to stay on at GMA, that Troy might not be quite the villain that they had all initially thought, and that she was at least thinking of accepting. Unsure as to how she would go about explaining certain details, she had left out a number of things, including Troy's precise level of involvement in the _Journal_ article, his bizarre appearance at the midnight service, and her feelings regarding the whole episode which were, she was beginning to realise, not what she might have expected.

"OK Montez, spill."

Gabby looked up with a start to see Sharpay leaning against the doorframe, a mug in her hand and a suspicious look on her face. She grinned and removed her feet from the chair opposite so her friend could sit down.

"Anything particular you had in mind? State secrets? My latest celebrity crush?"

"No, I...actually, yes...celebrity crush?"

"Bieber."

"Seriously."

"OK, fine...apart from Taylor Hanson, you mean?"

"Obviously."

"What's the name of that show where he reads people's minds and solves crime?"

"T_he Mentalist_?"

"Yeah, what's that guy called?"

"Simon Baker. Good choice." Sharpay took the chair offered, nodding. "One of my editors has been bugging me to do a profile on him for ages. She says it's because he might have some interesting insights on the fashion industry, having once been a model, but I suspect it's because he's hot and she wants to interview him."

Gabby raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that exactly what you did with David Boreanaz a couple of years ago?"

"Um, yeah, so anyway..." Sharpay was suddenly very interested in untangling the tassels on her scarf for a moment, before looking up. "You never answered my question."

"Which was..."

"What's going on with you?"

Gabby shrugged. "I'm fine."

Sharpay stared at her for a moment and then shook her head decisively. "No, I'm sorry, but a perfectly happy person wouldn't sit outside on her own on Christmas Day staring at my garden. It's just not that beautiful."

Kelsi appeared in the doorway that Sharpay had just vacated, and came out onto the veranda, followed by Taylor. "Well, it's a whole lot prettier than my garden, I'll tell you that for free. Jase and I always mean to spend our weekends working on it and then at some point on Sunday afternoon, we always realise that we've forgotten again." She indicated to the other two chairs on the veranda. "Do you mind if we join you?"

"Not at all! Do you think we'll be missed though? I don't want your parents thinking I'm being really anti-social, Shar," Gabby checked her watch, "I have been out for a pretty long time."

"Gabs, seriously, I don't want to dent your ego, but you're not being missed. None of us are, actually. Ryan and Jaime have gone for a walk, Shar's Dad is helping Zeke with the goose, Zeke's Dad is reading his new book on the British Museum, Jase is whipping Chad at Mario Kart, and Shar and Zeke's Moms have discovered a shared love of Michael Douglas and are watching _The American President_. Right now, if we all ran in and shouted 'We're back!', they'd all look up say 'Really? Where've you been?'"

"In that case, pull up a chair," Sharpay waved a hand at the empty chairs, "and help me quiz Montez here about why I just caught her sitting and staring out at my garden looking like Joey Potter."

"You're normally with your family for Christmas, aren't you?" Kelsi looked sympathetic. "Are you missing them?"

"No, I...well, yeah, I am, but no, that's..." Gabby paused and shook her head. "Damn, you're good. From 'I'm fine' to 'No, that's not it' in less than a minute."

"Yep, that's why they call me the Sydney Bristow of Fashion Journalism." Sharpay put her mug down beside her chair and swung her feet up onto the coffee table. "So if it's not that you're missing your family, then what is it?"

Gabby looked round at her three best friends. She had tried it before, and there was really no point in trying to put anything past them. Taking a deep breath, she began. "I could tell you it's all about having to quit at GMA, but that would only be a part of it, because really, I suppose it's also about Troy."

"I _knew_ it!..." Sharpay punched the air. "I mean, do go on..."

Gabby looked hard at her for a moment. "Yeah, so anyway...when you guys met me at the door this morning and asked me what was going on with Elliot's quote in that article, I told you the truth but I didn't exactly tell you the whole truth." And taking another mouthful of coffee to fortify her, she told them what Elliot had told her the previous night.

"So Troy wrote that article?" asked Taylor, when she'd finished.

Gabby nodded. "Well, the exact words were down to the guy who wrote the piece, but um, yeah, basically."

Kelsi looked confused. "And he didn't _tell_ you?"

"I know, right?" Gabby flung out her hands in frustration. "I yelled at him right in the middle of the lobby, I _slapped_ him for crying out loud, and since that moment, I've been fantasising about pushing him down a disused mineshaft. And now Elliot tells me that he turned down the offer to anchor GMA on his own and then wrote all those things about me. Why didn't he tell me? It's like he _wants_ me to hate him."

"But you don't," Sharpay sat forward in her seat, "do you?"

She could have denied it. She could have reeled off a list of the things that annoyed her about him and produced her well rehearsed performance of a girl who would have rather slammed her hand in a car door than spend any more time with Troy Bolton, but she'd been playing that person for weeks now, and she was sick of it. However irritating it was to admit it, Sharpay was right.

"No," she said slowly, "I don't."

Clearly determined not to overplay the fact that her friend had just admitted to _not hating_ Troy Bolton, Taylor stayed on topic. "But you don't think he feels the same?"

Gabby shrugged. "I can't really imagine why he would, to be honest, not after the way I've treated him since we met."

"OK, let's say you're not his favourite person right now." said Kelsi, "The fact that he wrote that article suggests he still wants to work with you, right? I've not known him very long, but I'm fairly sure that if he knew you regretted some of the things that had happened in the last few weeks, he'd be just as anxious as you to work on your professional relationship. That is...unless it's not just a professional relationship you want..." she trailed off as she saw her friend's face, "Oh boy."

"I know." Gabby nodded. "It's a mess. I mean, obviously I'm thrilled that things weren't quite what I thought they were at GMA, and I'm thrilled that there's a way I could have my job back, but then again, if it means working with..._him_...especially since it looks like he doesn't much care if I hate him or not..." she paused, "I'm just not sure I can do it."

"Look, G," Sharpay, who had been staring out at the garden in much the same way as Gabby had been, turned suddenly. "You don't have to make any decisions now, do you?"

Gabby shook her head. "No, Elliot's expecting my answer when I get back from Vermont."

"Sharpay nodded. "OK then. So don't feel like you have to decide what to do right now. Go see your family. Make some snowmen. Play with your nieces. Avoid your Mom's eggnog. Then come back and we'll be here to talk it over with you." She shrugged. "You never know, things might seem clearer in the new year."

"Shar's right, Gabs," said Taylor, "You're not going to be seeing Troy or Elliot before the beginning of January, and there's nothing you can do before then. Don't let it ruin your time with your family. I know you, you'll try not to let it affect you, but if you don't decide to deal with it in January, it'll be bothering you the whole time. Besides," she sat up, pulling her coat tighter around her, "I'm getting kind of cold out here and I think what I really need to see is you taking my boyfriend down at Mario Kart."

"On top of the whipping he just got from Jase?" Gabby laughed. "You don't want to totally crush him, do you, Tay?"

Taylor grinned. "Not totally, but he's really been asking for it since he beat us all in the summer. I've tried to put up with all the bragging and the trash talking, but it's been hard."

"Well, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been practising for just such an occasion as this..." Gabby got to her feet and gathered up the cups, pausing with her hand on the door. "You're right, by the way.. There's no point in stressing about this now; I'll deal with it in the New Year. And guys...thanks. For everything. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Sharpay slung an arm round her friend's shoulders. "Ah, enough of the mushy stuff, Montez, you've done the same for all of us. On a number of occasions, as I recall. Now, let's get inside quick before Zeke throws my Dad out of the kitchen and one of us has to go be his sous chef."

On entering the house they discovered that little had changed since Kelsi and Taylor had gone out onto the veranda. Ryan and Jaime were still out, the Moms were still sighing over Michael Douglas and his trombone-playing daughter and Zeke and Vance Evans were (to Sharpay's amazement) still enjoying each other's company prepping for dinner. Chad and Jason had stopped playing Mario Kart, though, and were demolishing a plate of sugar cookies while looking at Theo Baylor's holiday photographs, taken earlier that year on a trip to Alaska.

"You mean that actually happens?" Chad was saying, looking disbelievingly at a series of pictures of the northern lights, "The sky actually goes that colour?"

"Pretty amazing, huh, Danforth?" Sharpay sat down on the sofa next to her father-in-law and reached across him for a cookie. "He showed them to me yesterday evening and I thought something must have been wrong with his camera. That or he's suddenly become a genius with Photoshop."

Theo laughed. "That's pretty much what everyone says when they see them, but I promise, it really was that colour. Absolutely no photoshopping. Of course, Renée'll tell you that's because I wouldn't know how, but that's only because I made her come out photographing with me almost every night we were there."

"We've got to go see this for ourselves, Kels, it's just so...wait, that's not..." Jason, looking through the pictures, stopped short at one and peered at the screen before looking up with a grin. "So Theo, I see you guys took in a Jessica Simpson show while you were in Alaska?"

"We _what_?" Theo leant forward, and laughed as he saw the picture. "Ah. Yes. No, that is Jessica Simpson, but it was taken in New York. Ren's boss lives on Central Park West, and he and his wife invited all their editors and spouses to a brunch where we could all watch the Thanksgiving Parade going on below us."

"Ooh, like in _Miracle on 34th Street_?" asked Taylor, catching Gabby's eye.

Theo nodded. "It's a while since Ren's made me watch that movie, but yeah, as I remember it. Anyhow, when they realised that I had my camera with me, they asked me to take some pictures of the parade for their grandchildren, who normally came to watch it with them but hadn't been able to make it this year."

"Well, I guess that lets you off the hook as far as the Jessica Simpson pictures go." Chad scrolled through the remaining pictures. "They must have been stoked with the shots you took, these are awesome."

Theo smiled. "Thanks, yeah, they were pleased. They wanted to pay me for them, actually, but I would have felt a bit strange about selling shots of pop stars in Santa suits and people dressed as elves to my wife's boss, so they just paid the postage when I sent them the pictures."

"Did you enjoy the parade?" asked Kelsi. "When I was seven, I campaigned for about four months to go to New York and watch it for my birthday."

"And did you?"

"Nope, I got a puppy."

Theo raised his eyebrows and whistled. "That's some consolation prize."

Kelsi laughed. "I think they'd decided to give me a dog before I started my New York Campaign, but once it started, they totally wisely decided that the benefits of a puppy would far outweigh going to see a parade."

Theo nodded. "I can see that. I don't think we'd watched the parade since Zeke decided it was lame and he'd rather watch the football, so I was kind of surprised by how much we enjoyed it." He turned in his seat. "You're a New York boy, aren't you, Chad? You ever been?"

Chad shook his head. "Nope, I watched the football like Zeke, and I also had two older brothers who told me how lame it was almost as far back as I could remember." He looked thoughtful. "Didn't stop me from dressing up as one of Santa's helpers when I was in college though..."

Taylor sat up straight in her chair, a cookie half way to her mouth. "What? You? Dressed up as one of Santa's helpers? When? Why? And how come I've not seen incriminating evidence of this?"

Chad nodded resignedly. "See, _that's_ why I never told you. In answer to all those questions, McKessie, I _did_ dress up as one of Santa's helpers, I did it on three consecutive Christmases, and I did it to help out a friend from college." He turned to the others to explain, as further explanation was clearly needed. "This guy's family owned this great little bookshop in Chelsea, and each year they had a this kind of book festival running right up to Christmas. You know, book readings and kid's parties and stuff like that. Anyway, the first year I knew this guy, almost his whole family went down with flu right before Christmas, which reduced their potential workforce by about two thirds, and he asked - or _begged_, really - anyone who lived in New York if they could spare some time to come and help out. So, being the stand-up guy I am, I said yes and," he shrugged, "I really enjoyed myself."

"So you did it for the next two years." said Taylor, shaking her head in disbelief. "You, who looked at me like I was crazy when I suggested you wear a tie to the office Christmas party."

"Yep," Chad slung his arm round his girlfriend's shoulders, "I'm a mystery, honey, no point trying to figure me out."

"Danforth, you never answered Tay's last question."

Taylor nodded. "Oh, right! Thanks, Jase. Chad, how come we've not seen any evidence of this shadowy part of your past?"

"Yeah, thanks, Jase." Chad looked hard at his friend for a moment, before turning back to Taylor. "You've not seen any pictures because I don't have any. I surprised myself by how much I enjoyed helping out, but I can't say I was especially jazzed at the idea of people taking pictures of me wearing a stripey scarf and a pointy hat, although..." he trailed off thoughtfully, "I do remember someone taking pictures. Maybe Hoops would know."

Gabby almost choked on her cookie. "Hoops...you mean Troy?"

Chad looked at her in surprise. "Yeah, didn't I say that? The guy we helped out was on the same basketball team as us."

"But..." Gabby looked from Sharpay to Taylor to Kelsi, and found that their expression exactly mirrored her own. "Troy hates Christmas."

"Troy?" Chad scoffed. "Troy who volunteered us both for the book festival in the first place? Troy who gave festive book readings every day to audiences of thirty plus children? Troy doesn't hate Christmas, Gabs, where did you get _that_ idea?"

"I..." Gabby started to speak and stopped. This picture of Troy was totally at odds with everything she knew about him. And yet... She remembered him reading _Goodnight Moon_ to that group of pre-schoolers, remembered the enthusiasm with which he had thrown himself into the Christmas workshop. Was it really so difficult to imagine Troy actually _loving_ Christmas? How could she have got it so wrong?

Sharpay came to her rescue. "I guess he's always just seemed a bit baffled by Christmas stuff," she said, shrugging, "and when he first came to dinner with us, he said something about having spent Christmas on his own in St Bart's last year, didn't he? I mean, if that doesn't scream Scrooge, I don't know what does."

"Yeah, I'd forgotten that," Chad looked thoughtful, "I kept meaning to ask him about it."

"So you're telling me that for three years in a row, the both of you donned pointy hats with bells on, and there are most likely no pictures of this?" said Taylor, getting right back on message.

Chad rolled his eyes. "Sad as that must be for you, McKessie, that is exactly what I'm saying. Though actually, Hoops only did it the first two years. The last year he had to go to a funera..." he trailed off, looking thoughtful.

"A funeral?" Kelsi looked concerned. "Right before Christmas? Well, that'll suck the festive spirit right out of you."

"Whose funeral was it, Chad?" It felt like she was totally prying into his private life, but Gabby suddenly felt she had to know.

Chad paused as he tried to remember. "We never met, but I think she was Troy's nanny. Or his Mom's nanny. Maybe both. Anyhow, Troy got kinda offloaded onto her whenever his parents wanted to go somewhere where a little kid would cramp their style - I know, classy, right? - and so naturally, he got attached to her. Troy always said that she was the only person connected with his family who thought Christmas was something _more_ than a golden opportunity to buy a whole new wardrobe and have a series of incredibly chic parties at ski resorts, so he always tried to go upstate to see her at some point during the holidays. Said it gave him perspective. Anyhow," he took a deep breath, "our third year at Georgetown, Troy was totally slammed by midterms and didn't get up to see her before his presence was required at the Bolton Lodge in Stowe. It was only when he got to Vermont that he discovered that she was really sick and although they'd paid for the best care for her, his parents hadn't considered it important enough to tell him. Or maybe they knew that he'd make a scene and leave. Which he did, and got to the hospital just in time to say goodbye before she...died."

"Wow." Sharpay finally broke the shocked silence, looking across at Gabby. "Well, I guess that...explains it?"

"Yeah," Gabby nodded slowly, hoping she didn't sound as taken aback as she felt, "I guess it does."

At that moment, Ryan and Jaime got in from their walk and, having seen Michael Douglas happily reunited with Annette Bening, Renée and Darby rejoined everyone, reporting that dinner prep was still continuing apace in the kitchen. Gabby was glad of the distraction, but though it may have stopped the girls from watching her worriedly, it did nothing to stifle out the voice in her head telling her that she should go and see Troy. Chad's story had fitted the last few pieces into the puzzle, filling the gaps that had been confusing her. Had she been able to continue thinking that he simply didn't like Christmas that much, she could have provided herself with a number of reasons why going to see him was a very bad idea, but she now understood the flashes of sadness she'd thought she'd seen in in is eyes, understood why he'd been in church the night before, but knew that among the other, less noble reasons for wanting to see him, she also just wanted to make sure that he was OK. She had no point of reference for this kind of thing - she certainly couldn't empathise with someone who had been so terribly betrayed by their family - but she could put aside all the niggling worries that had come to the surface out on the veranda with the girls and _sympathise_ with the guy, couldn't she?

If she had stayed in the living room, surrounded by some of the loveliest, noisiest people she knew, she would have had a good chance of drowning out or at least ignoring the little voice telling her to go and see him, but a few moments later, as Zeke and Vance came to join them all, and Gabby took all the mugs out to the kitchen to rinse them before commencing the next round of coffees, a thought struck her, a thought so undeniably true that she was in the hallway with her coat on before she knew what she was doing: _He'd do the same for you._

"Leaving, Montez?"

She started guiltily in the act of putting her scarf on. "Oh! Chad, I um...I was just about to make the coffee and I...er..."

"Do you know where he lives?"

His question caught her off-guard, and for a moment, she produced a fine impersonation of a tropical fish. Finally, she managed to shake her head. Chad grinned, and reached for his phone. "I'll send you his address."

* * *

**Once again, I have nothing but apologies for my serial lateness where this story is concerned. No excuses. Thank you so much to everyone who has read it and/or reviewed it and/or messaged me to make sure I hadn't forgotten this story. I hadn't, honestly. Just writer's block. Two parts to go after this! And one of those is an epilogue! Happy (kind of late) Christmas!**


	26. All in one night

**All in one night**

It had been raining very slightly as she pulled out of the Baylors' drive, but on the ride over to Troy's apartment, Gaby couldn't help but notice that the rain was getting heavier and..._floatier_? The realisation that it was actually snowing in downtown Albuquerque took a while to sink it, certainly longer than it would have for someone who regularly experienced a miniature blizzard whilst driving across their hometown, but as quickly as it came, it went, and by the time she got out of her car, having parked on the road opposite Troy's building, the city was silent, freezing cold, and completely covered in a thin layer of white. In some ways, the unexpected snow was blessing, as in trying to remember everything she'd learnt about driving in snow from Diego and humming _White Christmas_ to herself, she had had no time to obsess about what she was going to say to Troy. Riding the elevator up to the third floor, she stared at herself in its mirrored wall, and desperately tried to formulate some kind of meaningful speech that encompassed sympathy at the loss of a woman he had clearly regarded as family, regret that she hadn't known of it sooner, gratitude for his part in getting her her job back, and friendly (but subtle) assurances that though she was looking forward to working with him again, she'd not read anything into that kiss on her doorstep.

"Oh, and Merry Christmas," she added, rolling her eyes at her reflection as the elevator doors opened and she stepped out onto his floor, finding herself, to her horror, face-to-face with his front door. She checked her phone again on the off-chance that she'd misremembered Chad's text and that she'd have more time, maybe a walk down the corridor in search of the right number, but found that she had got it right first time. Grimacing then, she knocked on the door, hoping that everything she had practiced in the elevator came out in the right order and hopefully, in as cool and collected a way as possible.

"Gabby." Troy blinked in surprise as he opened the door, "Hi. Merry Christmas."

"It snowed." _Bad, Montez, very bad_. "You know, outside."

_Even worse._

* * *

"So. I guess you're wondering what I'm doing here."

As conversational openers went, this was particularly lame, but it was the best she had come up with in almost five minutes of trying, and it would have to do. In the minutes that followed her super intelligent, State-The-Obvious doorstep greeting, it had occurred to her that once again, her current predicament had been shaped by Troy Bolton's apparent disinterest in acting like a normal human being. On opening the door on Christmas Day to find your estranged colleague looking a little like a mad woman and informing you that it had snowed, most people would have responded with something along the lines of "Oh, did it?" or "Yeah, I saw it out of the window". They would not have nodded, as Troy had, saying "Come in, I'll get my jacket". They would not have disappeared, as Troy had, back into the apartment for a moment leaving said estranged colleague staring blankly at a photo apparently taken on a Bolton family holiday to Camp David. With Bill Clinton. A normal person would probably not have been on family holidays with the Clintons in the first place. But if they had, they would still probably not have reappeared in the hallway, as Troy had, zipping up the aforementioned jacket and saying "Shall we go?", as if this decision to go out in the snow was one they had both pencilled into their diaries weeks ago.

Once more riding the elevator in silence, Gabby had to admit to herself that she had not planned for this contingency. Not that the actions of Most Normal People would have magically made the situation any less awkward, but she imagined, as the elevator doors opened onto the lobby, that somehow, sitting on a sofa with a cup of coffee might have been more conducive to getting the words out in the right order. Maybe that was the point, though. Her association with Bolton had, from the start, been nothing if not unconventional; maybe now that she was trying to repair their working relationship and forge a proper friendship (if that was what he wanted), it was going to take unconventional methods. Certainly, as they stepped out into the chilly late afternoon air and walked the block and a half to Troy's local park, she felt her confidence creeping back. He wasn't a monster, he wouldn't laugh at her or tell her it was none of her business; she would tell him how sorry she was to hear of his family friend, thank him for his part in getting her job back, and go. With this new-found confidence, she went with the best conversation starter she could think of and awaited his response.

Troy blinked in mock confusion. "You mean you didn't just come to tell me it had snowed?"

Gabby smiled, despite herself. "Um, no."

He smiled back. "Or was it the fact that it had snowed _outside_? You were very emphatic about that."

If this infuriating exchange did nothing else, it proved to Gabby that at the very least, the brief flashes of friendship they had shared in the last few weeks were salvageable. Marshalling her thoughts and putting aside a strange urge to prove it had snowed outside by ramming a handful of the stuff down his neck, she shook her head. "No, it wasn't the snow." She took a deep breath and began. "Chad was telling us about the book festival you two used to help at in New York, and by the way, you can imagine how the idea of him wearing a pointy hat and a stripey scarf went over with his girlfriend, but in telling us how many years he had helped at this festival, he also mentioned that you'd had to miss a year, and I hope you don't mind, but..."

"He told you about Elsa."

"Yes." Gabby stopped walking and turned to face him. "Troy, I'm so sorry. I can't even begin to imagine how awful that must have been for you. Chad said you weren't actually related but..."

"We might as well have been." Without quite meeting her eye, Troy started walking again. "I never met my actual grandparents, they had all died by the time I was old enough to remember anything much. Elsa had been Mom's nanny, but she also came from money and lived in this big old house upstate, which I think was one of the reasons why Mom and Dad were happy for her to be a part of my life. It provided them with free child care on the occasions when I was home from school and they had to go away on business, and Elsa's family name was well respected at their club." He shrugged. "Of course, none of that occurred to me at the time. She was just Elsa, and I loved her."

"Chad said she's the reason you love Christmas."

Troy looked down at her and grinned. "Bet you didn't know that, huh? Yeah, growing up, she was pretty much the only person I knew who believed that Christmas was a festival worth _celebrating_, not marking with a bunch of dinner parties. I spent almost the whole of my school holiday with her when I was eight, when I fell off the jungle gym and broke my arm just before we were about to fly out to Switzerland, where Dad was giving some keynote speech on Christmas Eve." He smiled. "Even with my arm in a cast, it's still the best Christmas I ever had. We went and chopped down a tree with her gardener, and we decorated it with all the crazy baubles she'd collected over the years, and we spent a couple whole days baking and she took me to her church and introduced me to all her friends. After that, no Christmas was quite the same. It's not that I had a terrible time when I spent Christmas with my parents, they just...I don't know, they just don't get it. For them, it's a wonderful Christmas if everyone goes away impressed." He paused and took a deep breath. "Anyway, so yeah, I expect Chad told you the rest. I hadn't managed to get up to see her before Christmas in my third year at Georgetown, so I called and left a message on her machine saying that I'd come up in the New Year. Normally, she'd have called me right back, but I don't know, I was travelling and it was only when I got up to my parents' ski lodge that I realised I hadn't heard back from her, which was kind of unusual, so at dinner I asked my Mom if she knew if Elsa had any plans for the holidays, and she got this kind of blank expression on her face..." He rubbed a hand across his face as if trying to erase the memory. "And I knew. I knew that something was wrong, and I pretty much hijacked their dinner party until they'd told me exactly what was wrong with her and where she was. And then I left and took Dad's car and drove all night, praying, actually _praying_ that I made it in time."

Gabby put a hand on his arm. "And you did."

He nodded. "Yeah. I arrived at the hospital at six in the morning, and I'd made my Dad call ahead to tell them I was coming, so I got straight in to see her, and by eight thirty, she'd..." He stopped suddenly and cleared his throat. "So yeah, I missed the last year that Chad helped out at the book festival because I was organising Elsa's funeral, which was on Christmas Eve at the church she took me to when I was a kid."

"And your parents?" She hardly liked to ask.

"Oh, they came. Of course they came. Felt kind of guilty, I think. They'd moved her to this incredibly expensive private hospital, so they must have known she was sick, but I'm not sure they realised _how_ sick she was, really. At least, that's what Mom told me when I called from the hospital to tell them that she'd gone. And it's what they told me again after the funeral. And I believe them, I do, it's just..."

"You'd have liked some more time."

He nodded. "Yeah, that would have been nice. But look, I wouldn't want you to think that this whole thing was all about my parents. I mean, driving all night and not knowing whether I get there to find she'd already gone, that's six or so hours I wish had never happened, but let's face it, if they hadn't had to go away a lot, I'd have never have spent so much time with Elsa in the first place. And even if I'd known about her being sick, and even if I'd been there for her for more than an hour and a half, Christmas would still make me sad, not because Mom and Dad let me down, but because it still reminds me of her." He turned and smiled at her as they continued to walk slowly round the edge of the park. "It gets better though. I mean, I'm not going to suddenly forget her, but at some point, I have to start enjoying Christmas again, precisely _because_ she loved it so much, you know?"

Gabby nodded. "I think she'd like that."

He smiled. "I think so too. And after last year..." He trailed off, and then shook his head. "Things had to change."

Gabby glanced up at him, curiously. "Why? What happened last year?"

"Do you remember that dinner at Sharpay and Zeke's? The one Chad invited me to before he knew I was Mr Folksy Charm?"

"How could I forget?"

"You remember that conversation we had about traditions and I told you I'd spent Christmas on St Bart's on my own, and you looked at me like I was a crazy person?"

She nodded again. "Um, yeah. Was it that obvious?"

"Oh yeah. And warranted, as it happens. That holiday was kind of the culmination of me trying not to do anything holiday-related that reminded me of Elsa. I was going to spend the time relaxing, and actually, what happened was that I spent almost the entire week staring out at the sea and thinking about chopping down that tree with her, and singing Christmas carols at her church." He sighed. "I was miserable and I couldn't figure out why. I didn't figure it out until this year, actually, when the Baylors invited me to spend Christmas with them, and I said yes, telling myself and anyone who would listen that it was because you'd all made an Albuquerque Christmas sound so intriguing, when really it was because I couldn't face the idea of spending another Christmas on my own."

His words jarred as she remembered the relief she'd felt when she'd found out he wouldn't be joining them for Christmas, and Gabby winced but he saw it and shook his head. "No, hey, I earned it. It was my fault and there was absolutely no way I could have joined you all today. Not after what I did."

Gabby frowned. "Twenty four hours ago, I might have agreed with you, but Troy, Elliot came to see me. He showed me the article you all but wrote and he told me what you'd done to try and make things right. I get that you wanted to do something to help, and I'm really grateful that you did, but I don't understand why you're being so hard on yourself. Elliot said you turned the job down flat when Ray Bradshaw offered it."

"I did, but..." Troy broke off and looked down at the ground for a moment before looking up and catching her eye again. "Saying no to Bradshaw made me realise that if he'd made the same offer before I came to Albuquerque, I don't know that I'd have said no so quickly. In fact, I think at that point, I might have said yes. Without knowing all the years of hard work you've put into getting to where you are. Without having met you. I could have..." He broke off, shaking his head. "I did what I could to make things right with you, but even then, I just couldn't face the idea of seeing you."

Gabby frowned. "Why? Because I'd want to _thank_ you?"

He nodded, still not meeting her eye. "Yeah, and I don't deserve it."

That was it. Gabby stopped walking, and turned to face him. "Troy, you can't beat yourself up about something you _might_ have done, that's just crazy. OK, so you might have said yes. But you didn't. And the fact that you're obsessing about it now tells me a lot more about the kind of person you are than something you think you _could_ have done back before we met. Besides," she spread her hands, "If we're going for apologies here, I think maybe I should start with throwing your shoes across a parking lot. And throwing wine over you. And pushing you in a lake. And practically concussing you. And slapping you." She sighed. "I guess neither of us have much reason to trust each other. I don't know, maybe we could..."

"Start again?"

"Yeah."

Their eyes met. He smiled, and put out his hand. "Troy Bolton."

"Gabriella Montez." She paused. "I once tried to get Kevin Bacon to do the _Footloose_ dance with me."

"I had dinner at the Vatican."

"Really? Huh..." She grinned. "Oh, and Merry Christmas. I meant to say that earlier."

"Hey, thanks." Troy smiled. "Oh, and that reminds me." He felt in the pocket of his jacket, drew out a piece of paper and held it out to her. "Merry Christmas, Gabby."

The afternoon light was now dimming fast, and at first glance on unfolding the paper, it appeared to be blank. It was only when she looked closer that while the paper was unremarkable, the contents were not. A computer scan of a much older document, its surface was almost entirely covered with painstakingly tiny handwriting, the neatness and spidery quality of which could only have been produced by someone from an older generation.

Troy laughed. "Yeah, that was a great idea, Bolton, give a girl a gift she has to read, and do it in the dark. Here," he took it and smoothed it out on the palm of his hand, "let me show you. I couldn't figure out what to get you for Christmas, and for a while I didn't think you'd actually _want_ a present from me. But then this morning, I remembered the night I walked home with you after the Old Town event and what you'd said about finding a new recipe. And I thought this might do."

Taking the paper back, Gabby looked closely at it and read aloud slowly, untangling the loops of Elsa's beautiful handwriting. "Lebkuchen. Brown sugar...dates...candied peel..._marzipan_?" She looked up with a grin. "I'd have to try them to be sure, of course, but this sounds amazing, Troy. Thank you."

He grinned. "I hoped you'd say that." And reaching into the same pocket, he took out a foil-wrapped package and handed it to her.

Gabby looked disbelievingly at it, and then back up at him. "You didn't. You _did_? Troy, you _baked me cookies_?"

Troy shifted uncomfortably. "That sounds a lot less manly than I'd like it to, but, well, yeah." He looked a little nervous as she unfolded the foil and removed a cookie. "You might wish I hadn't, of course. I should warn you that the last time I baked anything other than a potato, I was about ten. I was going to drop these off on your porch this evening, and hope you'd thought of something nice to say about them by the time we saw each other in January."

"Coward." Doing her best to ignore the voices in her head pointing out that she could count the guys who had ever baked for her on less than one hand, Gabby grinned at him over the top of her cookie and took a bite. And another. "Oh. Wow. Troy, this is _amazing_, where did you get this recipe? No, wait," she said, swallowing her third mouthful and putting two and two together. "Elsa. This is hers, isn't it?"

He smiled. "Yeah, it was one of her favourites. And consequently one she made pretty frequently, especially at Christmas. That holiday I spent with her, I think I had one in my hand and one in my pocket at all times."

Gabby looked down at the paper she still held in her hand, this unexpected piece of Troy's childhood. She had no words. It wasn't the fact that he'd just given her a Christmas present when until twenty fours hours previously, she'd have merrily slammed her door in his face again. It wasn't the fact that he'd remembered their conversation, taken the trouble to look out the recipe and make her a copy. It wasn't even that he'd clearly spent several hours baking for her. It was the fact that he'd let her in when, as far as she could see, she'd done very little to deserve it. What did you do when no words were adequate? How did you express this feeling? She discovered the answer all by herself, but it was only as she actually stepped forward and kissed him that she realised the full ramifications of her brilliant plan.

Troy froze, and in that moment, Gabby realised exactly what she'd just done.

_Would another simple 'Thank you' not have sufficed, Montez you idiot? _"Oh," she said, stepping away, "Um, that was...I mean...sorry, I..." _Abort, abort, abort._

Feeling like she'd been kicked in the stomach but more grateful than she could say that no-one had been there to witness her monumentally striking out, Gabby turned and tried to walk away in as dignified a manner as possible, only to be unceremoniously jerked back. She looked down at the hand encircling her wrist and then, hardly believing what she was seeing, back up at Troy.

"No, he said, gently removing the package of cookies and recipe from her hand and sliding them into her pocket. "don't apologise, they really are very good cookies." He was smiling.

Smiling?

Gabby frowned. "What..." she began, but however articulate it might have been, the rest of her speech was lost in his kiss.

In many ways, the circumstances of this kiss closely resembled those of a few evenings previously, when Troy had mistaken spruce and holly for a mistletoe bough. It was similarly spontaneous. It was similarly unexpected by its recipient. Where it differed lay entirely with the recipient's response. Specifically, there was neither choking nor flailing. Instead, Gabby found that the arm not still held tightly by one of his hands fitted perfectly round his waist and that her cheek fitted beautifully into his other freakishly warm, un-gloved palm.

A moment later, Troy pulled back slightly, and resting his forehead against hers for a second, looked down at her, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Well," he said, "That was easier than I thought it'd be."

"What?"

"Yeah, if known that was going to happen, I'd have made you cookies weeks ago."

The meaning of his words settled on Gabby like sunshine after a cloudy afternoon, but it reminded her of something, something infinitely less pleasant, and she stepped back. "I didn't give you a Christmas present."

"Montez," his breath was warm on her cheek as he pulled her close again, "I don't need a present. I'm not six, and I'm not going to have a tantrum. Now stop talking and kiss me again."

Gabby shook her head. "No, you should have a present. Everyone should have a present today."

"Is that a line from _Do They Know It's Christmas_?"

"Be quiet, I'm thinking. Oh, I know," she said, an idea occurring to her, "this is perfect." She untucked the ends of her red wool scarf from the collar of her coat, unwound it, and handed it to him. "Here. I want you to have this."

Troy looked down at his hands, and then back up at her. "A gift? A gift for _me_?"

Gabby was about to answer, when his precise words hit her. She narrowed her eyes. "What did you say?"

Troy slid the scarf round his neck and flipped the long end over his shoulder. He was grinning. "You heard me."

This was unexpected. "You watched _Muppet Christmas Carol_?"

Troy nodded. "Yeah, I was flipping channels last night and there it was. You know there are whole TV channels of Christmas movies? I was going to go and do something a little more productive when it finished, but then _It's a Wonderful Life_ started, which I remembered watching with Elsa, and then when I got home from church last night, _Miracle on 34th Street_ was on, and then after that, there was a movie about something called a Splinch..."

"The Grinch?"

"Right. Well, it was pretty late by then and I think I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, it was six in the morning and I was still on the sofa with a crick in my neck."

"I can't believe that you watched _Muppet Christmas Carol_..."

He stepped closer again. "And I can't believe you just called me Scrooge."

"No, I..." Gabby started to deny it, and broke off. "I did, didn't I?"

He nodded. "Yeah, Beaker, you did. And what's more, you made me forget my speech."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, I had a speech all prepared and everything..."

Gabby grinned. "A speech about what?"

"Well I wasn't expecting to have to use it so soon, but it was about how I've wanted to kiss you since you threw wine over me, so much so that I feigned an ignorance of Christmas foliage and risked looking like a total idiot in the process..."

"Wait, you knew it wasn't mistletoe?"

He smiled. "Yes?"

She should have been indignant, and yet somehow, she found she wasn't. "Go on..."

"About mistletoe?"

"The speech, Troy!"

"Oh. Right. Yeah, so I was going to start with the part about how I've been wanting to kiss you for the last month…wait, there's something I just need to…" He kissed her again, and broke away a moment later, shaking his head. "That's going to take some getting used to…so once I'd covered the kissing part, although in truth, it did form quite a large part of my speech, I was going to tell you that getting hired for GMA is the best thing that's ever happened to me and that I've had more fun in the last month than I've had in the last ten years." He brushed snowflakes from her hair and returned his hand to her cheek. "And then, although maybe I should have opened with this part, I was going to tell you that I never meant to hurt you and that I'd do anything to win back your trust."

She grinned. "Anything, huh?"

"Anything." He smiled, but his eyes were serious. "I've never met anyone like you, Gabby; you make me crazy and you make me laugh and I know I've not done much to deserve it, but I need you in my life and if it takes me leaving GMA and finding another job, I'll do it, if that's what you want."

Gabby freed her hand from his and wound it round his waist, pulling them closer together. "I don't want."

"OK, but…wait, what?" He placed a hand on her shoulder and looked intently at her. "You don't?"

She shook her head. "No, I want you to stay. I was so sad when I quit on Thursday, but it wasn't until yesterday that I realised that one of the reasons why I was so upset was that we wouldn't be working together any more. I know that the last few weeks haven't been exactly pretty," she paused, leaving unsaid the ties and suits ruined with red wine and lake water, the flying shoes, the fainting, the bruises, the elves, the tears and the shouting, "and you might not believe me, but we make a good team, and...I think the show is better now that there are two of us."

Troy started to say something, but she interrupted him. "Or at least, that's the reason I'll give Elliot and the board when they want to know why I want you to stay."

"It's not the real reason?"

"It's one of the reasons," Gabby shrugged, her eyes fluttering closed involuntarily as he brushed his fingers across her cheek, "OK, seriously, how are your hands not freezing cold? I'm getting frostbite here and you're not even wearing gloves!"

A warm hand settled at the back of her neck. "Focus, Montez."

"Where was I?"

"One of the reasons."

"Right. It's one of the reasons I want you to stay. They won't believe the other one."

"Which is?"

"I…like you."

Troy grinned and pulled her close again. "You _like me_, Montez? You're right, they won't believe it, not after the Flying Shoes. We'll just have to convince them it's true…Wait," he said when their lips were millimetres apart, "Did you just say you were cold?"

"Well, I didn't exactly dress for snow."

"No, and you seem to have given your scarf away."

"Yeah, that was a rookie mistake."

"Can't mess with symbolism, Montez, you completed my Festive Metamorphosis. I'm going to go buy a turkey now and give it to some deserving soul." He paused for a second, then said "Zeke and Sharpay will be wondering where you are."

Gabby checked her watch. "Yeah, I should probably get back."

He nodded.

"Are you coming?"

Another slow smile spread across his face. "I'd love to, but if you've all already eaten dinner, you might need to give me some of your lebkuchen."

"You've not eaten yet?"

"No, and I was contemplating making myself some deeply festive mac and cheese at the precise moment you knocked on the door."

Gabby paused. "You want to know whether we've already eaten Zeke's clementine and maple roast goose, glazed carrots with ginger, tarragon green beans, caramelised red onions and chestnuts and cauliflower gratin?

Troy closed his eyes as if wishing for the moon. "_Yes_."

Gabby laughed. "I may be wrong, but I should imagine that Shar's already laid you a place at the…"

Her last words were lost as Troy picked her up and spun her round. "I haven't missed it! The spirits did it all in one night!"

When the world had finished lurching from side to side, Gabby put her hand on his shoulders. "Troy, don't think I'm not happy that you've rediscovered Christmas, but I really think you should consider dialling back on the Dickens references."

"I'll bear that in mind, Beaker."

"Glad to hear it."

Gabby made as if to start walking in the direction of her car, but Troy stopped her, his eyes on the sky. "And yet…" He took her face in his hands and kissed her. "God bless us, everyone," he murmured, as slowly, miraculously, the snow began to fall around them once again.

* * *

_In all the places you find love, it feels like Christmas_

Paul Williams

* * *

**Well, I'd say I always knew I'd make it to the end of this story, except I did actually doubt it on a number of occasions. Once again, I have nothing but lovely things to say about all of you for following this story and reviewing it and making my day on a regular basis. You're all ace. This is the end of the story, but I'm a big believer in epilogues, so you still have one more chapter to go. I hope all the ends are sufficiently tied up for you, but I don't rule out the possibility of returning to these characters at some later date. Otherwise I think I might miss them all. And you should feel free to skim over how much of a lame-o that makes me.**

**I am, as always, grateful to Mo, who laughed at me a lot when I was trying to finish this, invented Gag Reel Night, supplied me with butterscotch blondies and also made the ending funnier. She also wrote an alternate ending for me, in which Ryan does a jazz square and says 'globular'. I tried to include it, but it never quite fitted anywhere...**


	27. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

**More than a sandwich**

_Two months later_

"I don't believe it." Troy sat staring ahead of him, dumbstruck.

Not quite dumbstruck enough, as it happened. Gabby nudged him. "Ssshhh..."

Troy shook his head. "But I told him, I said..."

"Sssshhh..."

"...it ought to crescendo on the opening note."

"Troy."

"I showed him the video, he agreed it sounded better."

"Troy, be quiet."

"He agreed with me, Gabby. And he has never managed to hit it. Not on opening night, and not tonight."

Sensing that this had the potential to go on for a while, and also wanting to avoid being thrown out of the theatre on the closing night of the show by the stage manager, who she was interviewing next week on GMA, Gabby tried an alternate tack, that of ignoring him completely. And it worked, for the duration of a short dance sequence, but as Curly stepped forward and missed his opportunity to crescendo once again, she knew it was hopeless.

"I should have just done it myself."

"What?"

"Ryan wouldn't have minded."

"Troy, I'm serious."

"So am I, Gabby. Deadly serious. I don't care what Hugh Jackman did, it's just plain wrong, and I could have done it better."

"He's right, he could have." Sitting next to Gabby on her other side, Ryan leant forward, nodding.

Gabby looked round, almost hoping to someone glaring at them that she could apologise to, but no one appeared to have noticed that the director and all his guests appeared to be chatting. "Guys, that's great, but shouldn't we maybe..."

"Hugh Jackman played Curly?" Sharpay leant across Ryan to tap Gabby on the arm. "When was this? And why do I not own it on DVD?"

"London, late nineties." Troy sat forward to see Sharpay. "It's on youtube too."

"What are _you_ doing?" Gabby turned to see Sharpay surreptitiously typing something into her iPhone.

"Making a note to myself to look it up later. In case I forget. Baby brain." Sharpay looked from face to face. "What? It's a thing." At that moment, the cast reached the end of the song with the customary "YeeOW!" and she jumped, dropping her phone and grabbing Ryan's arm.

Ryan, who had been watching the stage intently as the stage was readied for the finale, also jumped at this and then glared at his sister, looking between her and the marks her fingernails had left. "Shar," he said in an indignant whisper, "that's the second time you've done that in the last half hour. Could you maybe be a little less, I don't know, _jumpy_?"

Sharpay appeared not to hear him, apparently counting to ten before letting out a deep breath and then looking up with a winning smile. "What? Oh sure, yeah, OK. Less jumpy. Gotcha."

Shaking his head and muttering something under his breath about hereditary madness, Ryan turned back to watch the rest of the show, and ten minutes later, as the cast took their final curtain call to rapturous applause, he sat back with a sigh. "So that's over for another term. Thanks for coming guys, I'm sure you all had better things to be doing than watching my show yet again."

"It was hardly a chore, Ry," said Gabby, patting his arm, "and I know the others would have come too if they could. Of course," she glanced at Troy, "I might have enjoyed the last twenty minutes a little more if _someone_ had managed to keep a lid on their disappointment at poor Geoff down there forgetting to crescendo correctly, but I guess that's what you get when you sit next to a..."

"...perfectionist with perfect pitch?" suggested her boyfriend.

She nodded slowly. "I was going to say a raving total lunatic, but sure, perfectionist with perfect pitch works too."

Sharpay smacked her hand onto the armrest. "I've just realised what's wrong with the end!"

"Geoff's inability to crescendo?"

She grinned at Troy. "Well yeah, that, but also they reprise the wrong song."

Her brother frowned. "What's wrong with _Oh What a Beautiful Morning_?"

"Apart from the fact that _Oklahoma_'s a much better song?"

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Yes."

"It ends in the evening."

"So? It's called artistic license, Sharpay, the song's about optimism and hopefulness. It doesn't matter if it's not set in the morning."

Sharpay shrugged and swung her feet up to rest on the seat in front of her, which was by now vacant, "Curly and Laurey get married and ride off into the sunset, singing about what a beautiful _morning_ it is. It's weird. Also, _Oklahoma_ has the better ending. In my humble opinion, Evans, all musicals should end with a good yeeOWOWOW," she swung her feet down again almost immediately, her eyes closed and her hands on her stomach, "OK." She took some deep breaths. "This is happening."

"What? You mean _it_?...It's happening? _Now_?" Ryan sat up straight, his eyes widening as suddenly, his sister's behaviour and jumpiness in the last half hour suddenly made terrible sense. "Shar, putting aside for a second the beating I'll get from your husband if you now give birth in a theatre auditorium while he's still at work, would you mind telling me how long you've been in labour?"

Sharpay waved her hand vaguely. "Maybe thirty, forty minutes? Ah, quit fussing, Evans, the contractions are way apart right now and if I'd leapt to my feet in the middle of Act Two, you'd have stopped the performance and probably made poor Geoff carry me to your car."

Choosing to ignore everything in that except the last word, Ryan shook his head. "I've not got the car today, it's in the shop. Jaime was going to pick me up in about an hour to go to dinner before the cast party back here."

"We'll drive you, Shar." Troy got to his feet, shrugging into his jacket. "If you and Gabs hang here for a second, I'll bring the car round the front."

Sharpay watched him go and then turned back to Gabby looking mortified. "But you guys were going out to dinner too! Look, maybe you could just call me a cab..."

"Oh yeah, _that_ sounds like something Zeke wouldn't beat on us for."

"Exactly how bad do you imagine my husband's anger management issues are, Ry?"

"Shar, if you think for a second that we're not coming with you to the hospital, you are dreaming." Gabby stood up, putting on her coat and finding her friend's. "And if it was me, you know you'd say the same. Now get your coat on, and stop being such an idiot."

Sharpay opened her mouth to argue but changed her mind, and three minutes later, was sliding into the passenger seat of Troy's car.

Ryan leant down at the open window. "I'll just finish up with the cast, and then Jaime and I will catch up with you all." He paused. "What do you say to your sister when she's going to the hospital to have a baby? 'Good luck'? 'Knock 'em dead'? 'Break a leg'?"

Sharpay smiled winningly as Troy started the engine. "How about 'Shar, I'll call Mom and Dad and persuade them they don't need to fly out just yet'?"

On the road, Troy turned to his passenger. "I hope you don't mind, Shar, but I called Zeke while I was bringing the car round. It'll take a bit longer for him to get there from the _Journal_ offices, so I thought he'd want a bit of a head start if he's going to be able to swing by yours and pick up your stuff and meet us there." He broke off as the bag at Sharpay's feet started ringing. "I guess that'll be him now."

Sharpay fished for her phone, and then adjusted her vanity mirror to make eye contact with Gabby, who was sitting behind her. "Quite the catch, this one, Montez. Hey honey," she spoke into her phone, "...yeah, I'm fine..."

* * *

Gabby woke with a start, unsure for a minute where she was, or what she was doing sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair with her feet resting on a coffee table piled high with old copies of _Marie Claire_ and _Golf Digest_. The unmistakable smell of hospital solved that mystery almost immediately though, as did the sight of Ryan sleeping on another row of chairs, a battered copy of _Jurassic Park_ open across his knee and Jaime fast asleep against his shoulder. She stretched and half sat up with the idea of maybe going to get a status report on Baby Baylor when someone pressed a kiss against her hair and said "Hey you," and she turned in surprise to find herself in Troy's arms.

"Oh." She blinked. "Oh, hey. I, um, didn't see you there."

He smiled. "Yeah, you've been pretty out of it." He smoothed her hair. "You OK?"

"Um," Gabby sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Yes, I'm fine." She felt in the pocket of her jeans for her phone. "How long have I been asleep?"

Troy checked his watch. "Maybe half an hour?"

"Is there any news?"

Troy shook his head. "A nurse came through a while ago and said that Sharpay wanted us to know that this could go on all night and that if she found we'd stayed, she'd kick our collective asses, but otherwise, no."

"Have any of the others been back in touch?"

He shook his head. "I told them we'd call when there was any news."

Gabby sat up, tucking her legs up under her and stretching the crick out of her neck. "We should pass on Shar's message, just in case they were feeling bad about not having come down to the hospital." She glanced at him. "She's right though, Troy, you don't have to stay if you don't want to."

He looked hard at her as if trying to figure something out. "You're staying though, right?"

She shrugged. "Um, yeah, but..."

"OK then." He nodded and felt in the pocket of his jacket, which was draped over the chair next to him. Producing two sandwiches, he held one out to her. "Turkey and coleslaw? It was that or some deeply suspect-looking egg mayonnaise."

In the grand scale of gestures, it probably wouldn't have rated highly. It was just a sandwich. Except it wasn't, it was more than that. It was an I'll-sleep-in-a-hospital-waiting-room-if-it-means-I-get-to-hang-out-with-you sandwich. It was an I-don't-know-what-those-other-losers-you-dated-were-thinking-letting-you-go sandwich. It was an I'm-not-going-anywhere sandwich. What do you say when you're given that? A more-than-a-sandwich sandwich?

Gabby leant forward and placed a hand on his cheek and kissed him. "Thanks," she said, "shall I go buy us some coffee?"

* * *

**Girls always push the guy they secretly mean to marry into lakes**

_One year and ten months later_

"Remind me again whose brilliant idea this was?" Sitting on the back of a park bench with his feet resting on the seat, Chad yawned, pulled his hat further down over his ears and glared accusingly at his fiancée.

Taylor looked thoughtful. "I can't remember exactly. It may have been Shar and Zeke."

"Should have known, it has Baylors written all over it." Chad paused in his grousing to accept a cup of coffee. "And when they suggested we meet at seven thirty in the morning to watch GMA broadcast in the cold on Christmas Eve, remind me again why we said yes?"

"Because we celebrated the holidays separately last year, and I thought it'd be a cool way for us all to start our Christmas together?"

"It's cool all right." Chad shivered and wrapped his fingers round his coffee cup. "It's like Siberia out here."

Taylor looked from the sun-filled plaza to the light frost on the grass to the bright blue sky. "Yeah, we're lucky to be alive."

"I'm just saying," Chad spread his hands defensively, "_I'm_ here, McKessie. _You're_ here. Where, pray, are the originators of this hair-brained scheme?"

"Keep your pants on, Danforth, we're right here." Sharpay dumped an armful of paper bags from _Felicci_ on the bench at Chad's feet and looked up at her small daughter, who was sitting on Zeke's shoulders. "Tell him, Fin."

Finley Rae Baylor, clad in snowsuit and boots, a fuzzy hat with bear ears and a pair of her mother's sunglasses removed her shades in the manner of a 1940s screen siren and smiled down at him. "Right here." she said.

Chad looked from mother to daughter, shaking his head. "There's two of them," he muttered. "I keep forgetting there's two of them now."

"Tell me about it." Zeke lifted his daughter down, deposited her on Chad's lap, and started distributing pastries. "OK, so we have...apple danish for Danforth, pain au raisin for Fin, almond croissant for Shar, pain au chocolat for me, almond croissant for Taylor..." He looked up as Kelsi and Jason approached, Kelsi carrying Joe, their eight month old son in his wraparound sling. "Ah, just in time. Pain au chocolat for Jase, apple danish for Kels, apricot danish for...hey, where's Evans? Isn't he supposed to be here already?"

Sharpay laughed scornfully at her husband through a mouthful of croissant. "Are you kidding me? _Good Morning Albuquerque_ comes live from the rehearsals of Ryan's Nativity Pageant, when previous years have involved half an hour's spirited sheep-wrangling between run-throughs, and you're asking me if he's _here yet_?"

"You're right. Dumb question." Zeke reached for his phone. "I'll call him and tell him there's coffee and a danish when he wants it."

"No need." Sharpay shook her head, "We Evanses don't mess with technology when cake is involved. We kick it old school." And standing up on the bench, she cupped her hands round her mouth, bellowing "EVANS! BREAKFAST!" before hopping back down and continuing with her croissant like nothing had happened.

"Did she really..." Chad broke the short, stunned silence.

Zeke nodded, eyes closed. "Yeah, yes she did."

"But..."

"I know."

"Would, I don't know, a phone call not have been more..."

"Hey guys," Ryan jogged up to them. "Got your message, Shar."

Sharpay smiled smugly at the thunderstruck faces around her, and held out a bag and coffee cup to her brother. "Apricot danish, flat white with one."

"Thanks, that's great."

"You coming by for lunch?"

Ryan nodded. "Hopefully, if the weather stays fine and the assorted students and animals and kids all behave themselves. Morning Fin," he dropped a kiss on the top of his niece's head who, totally unmoved by her mother's behaviour, was making very neat work of a pain au raisin on Chad's lap, and then waved to the rest of his friends, most of whom were still staring at Sharpay. "I'll see you all later, yeah?" And he jogged off again.

"You Evanses are weird." Jason turned back to his pastry, shaking his head.

"Morning, guys!" Mia hurried up to them, "I'd forgotten you said you were all coming down for the show today. Listen," she glanced over her shoulder, "I just thought I'd check with you all before I have to go get Jon all stressy when he's already on his third espresso...I don't suppose you've seen Gabs and Troy yet, have you?"

"What? They're not here yet?" Taylor checked her watch. "But it's twenty to!"

Mia looked agonised. "I know, I know. Thing is, Gabs told me yesterday that they might be cutting it a bit fine this morning, but I never thought to check that Jon knew this too, and now I'm thinking that with twenty minutes to go, telling him that not only are his anchors currently AWOL but that I _knew yesterday_ they'd be late might not be the best idea I've ever had. So when I saw you all, I just thought I'd come and check if you'd seen them yet."

Sharpay shook her head. "Sorry Mia, all G said to me was that they'd probably not be able to hang out much before the show but that they'd try to come and at least say hi before going on air. Oh," she prodded the last paper bag on the bench, "and that they'd need at least one croissant each if they were going to make it through the morning."

"And they didn't tell you they might be late?"

"Not that I can remember. Have you tried calling them?"

"Yeah, both their cells are going to voice mail." Mia sighed. "I'm sure it's fine, I'm sure they're on their way; I'd just like to be able to tell that to Jon _knowing_ it's true rather than just hoping it is."

"That's great Mia," Kelsi looked uneasy, her eyes drawn to the other side of the plaza, "except if that's the case, you might want to think slightly faster."

Mia closed her eyes. "He's coming over, isn't he?"

"Um, yes."

"Does he look...OK?"

Sharpay peered round Mia to see better. "Sure. Well, he looks like he might have that thing that Wolverine gets. What's it called, Chad?"

"Berserker rage?"

"That's it. He looks kind of berserker raged, Mia."

Mia sighed. "Yeah, that sounds about right." She turned as her boss reached her side, fixing him with a perky smile. "Oh hey Jon, do you need anything?"

Jon narrowed his eyes. "Don't 'Oh hey Jon' me, you know exactly what I need."

"Another espresso?"

He pointed his rolled up running schedule at his assistant. "This isn't the time for your sass, Gardener, this is serious. We're about to go live for the Christmas Eve edition of the most watched local TV show in the state and my two anchors have gone AWOL on some mystery errand." He checked his watch. "I presume you've left them messages already, but try again would you? And this time, you can tell them...actually, no, you know what? I'll do it." And reaching for his phone, he punched a couple of keys and waited for a moment before he got directed to voice mail. "Bolton, I don't know where you are or what you're doing, but the show you anchor will be starting in eighteen minutes with or without you, and for your sake, it'd better be with you, _both_ of you, if you want the prophetic image of your painful death I just drew in the margin of my running schedule to remain a pretty picture. That is all."

"Man, I'd hate to be that guy." Jon had just hung up when a voice spoke behind him and turning, he saw Troy walking towards him, Gabby following close behind. There was a collective sigh of relief from everyone present.

Jon nodded. "Yeah, he's got some serious explaining to do. But later, OK?" he added, as Gabby opened her mouth, "We don't have time right now. Mia, go make sure they've got the updated running schedules and tell Jo that they'll be ready for makeup in five minutes, would you? Thanks." He turned to Gabby and Troy. "We've changed the order slightly because the guy from the soup kitchen was only available until eight thirty, so he's now on first. He just arrived too, so I'll get Mia to introduce you all before you go on air. And I'll see you in ten, when you're done with makeup. OK? OK. Thanks for coming, everyone, I'll see you all later." He waved in a vague and general direction, sighed and walked away muttering "It's gonna be a looong day."

* * *

"OK." In their trailer, Gabby dropped her bag on the chair next to the door and picked up the running schedules that had, at Mia's request, been thrust into their hands by an eager intern. "So we've got a couple of minutes to review the first section before Jo needs us in makeup. We prepared this pretty well yesterday, I think, but it probably wouldn't hurt just to go over it again. Do you have the notes from yesterday?"

Troy nodded. "Yep."

"Can I have them?"

"Um, no."

Gabby blinked. "No?"

"Not right now, no."

"Why not?"

Troy, who had been leaning against the opposite wall of the trailer, stood up. "Because there's something I need to do."

Gabby frowned in confusion, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Troy, what could you possibly..." she began, before he took three purposeful steps towards her, hooked an arm round her waist and kissed her.

A moment later, pulling back as far as his arms would let her, she looked up at him and smiled. "Oh. That."

He nodded. "Right, that."

"You decided against doing that in front of everyone outside, then?"

Troy looked shocked. "What, kiss you in front of all our friends and colleagues and an unscrupulous camera crew? They'll get ideas about the state of our relationship, G, and we can't have that."

"Um, I think the cat's out of the bag on that one."

"You think the wedding photos on the GMA website might have given the game away?"

"Kinda."

"You may be right." He looked down at her thoughtfully for a moment. "So...I guess we should figure out a plan."

"A plan?"

"Yeah, a plan. About what we do next."

She pulled a face. "I guess."

"Unless you were thinking we should wait...?"

"I was thinking we could maybe just wait for the next six months?"

"Wait, what?"

"Because it'd be totally obvious by then and we wouldn't have to..."

"Gabby."

She sighed. "I know, I know."

His arms tightened around her. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

She shook her head. "No, I know that twelve weeks is when you can start telling people, and I want to, I do, it's just..."

"Actually," he shook his head slowly, "you're wrong. Twelve weeks _tomorrow_, that's what Dr Burkhart said this morning."

"You mean..."

"Yeah, I don't think we should tell people before twelve weeks is up. We should definitely wait one more day."

One more day of sharing the best secret she'd ever kept with the best man she knew. She smiled and raised up on her toes to kiss him. "We're having a baby, Troy."

He grinned, and checked the time. "Seven forty six. You're slipping."

"Have I not said it yet this morning?"

"Not to me. You may have told yourself while you were singing _Mmmbop_ in the shower, though."

"I may have, actually." She paused, remembering. "Those Hansons do have a lot of babies."

He shook his head. "You're strange."

"But you love me, right?"

"Despite your deep and abiding love for the Hanson family, yes. I do. So," he kissed her once more and reluctantly stepped back, reaching for his bag, "you wanted the notes from yesterday's meeting?"

Gabby looked blank for a moment and then pulled a face. "Oh. Right, the show."

He smiled. "Miles away, huh?"

"I know there are a whole bunch of things I should be caring about right now, but..." she felt in the pocket of her jeans, pulling out the scan Dr Burkhart had given them as they left the hospital that morning. "This is much more interesting."

"So before, when you were all 'Troy, do you have the notes?', you were just pretending to be studious?"

"Totally. I don't know whether this is the start of what Sharpay and Kels call Baby Brain, but it's entirely likely that you may have to swoop in when I space out mid-interview."

He shrugged. "So fake it. Use all those years of training from Madame de la Whatever. I seem to remember they came in very handy when you had to pretend you _weren't_ thinking about dropping a piano on my head."

She grinned, sliding the scan back into her pocket. "That's true."

"_Unless_," he paused, looking thoughtful, "unless, of course, you secretly liked me all along, in which case your acting skills may need some work."

Gabby patted his cheek absentmindedly as she leant past him to grab the folder of notes from his bag. "Sure, honey, you tell yourself that. Girls always push the guys they secretly mean to marry into lakes."

* * *

"Oh great, they're here." Mia met them five minutes later coming out of the makeup trailer. "Guys, this is Kevin Barnes. Kevin, meet...wait," she broke off, her eyes drawn to where Jon had just sat down too heavily on his director's chair, almost tipping backwards and throwing all his notes in the air with a terrifying yell, "Oh man. I'd better go make sure he's OK. Troy, do the honours, would you?"

Kevin, a tall, young man who looked barely out of college, looked after her retreating figure and grinned. "And they always told me that TV was so glamourous."

Troy laughed. "They lied, man. They lied. So you're the guy who's just taken over the soup kitchen and homeless shelter?"

Kevin nodded. "That's right, last month. I've been working there for five years now, so I know the ropes, but this is my first Christmas in charge."

"Well, it's fantastic work you guys do, thank you so much for fitting us in this morning, I'm sure this is a busy time for you. I'm Troy, by the way, Troy Bolton."

"I know, I'm a big fan of the show." They shook hands.

"And this is my wife, Gabby."

Gabby smiled and held out her hand. "Gabby Bontez-Molton...I mean," she closed her eyes for a second, "Montez-Bolton. See?" She turned to her husband, who was laughing so hard that he could hardly stand up straight. "See what you've done?"

"Yeah sure, blame me."

"Better get used to it, Bolton, because I don't see it being anyone else's fault." She turned back to Kevin, who was looking a little bemused. "Kevin, I apologise. I do assure you that we're normally much more professional than this."

Kevin grinned. "No, I get it. My sisters call it 'getting the Holiday Crazies'. You know, when you've been working real hard and there's a break coming up." He shrugged. "You can get a little nuts."

"Kevin," Shaking his head, Troy placed a hand on Kevin's shoulder as they started towards the centre of the plaza where they would be presenting the show, "you have no idea."

Five minutes later, standing in front of the stable for Ryan's Live Nativity, having checked for the third time that the sheep were firmly gated, Gabby decided that though Kevin's sisters' Holiday Crazies explained some things, the vast majority of her Holiday Craziness stemmed from one Mr Troy Bolton. It had, after all, been Troy who, two years previously, had enraged and frustrated her, prompting her to push him in a lake and throw his shoes across a parking lot. It had been Troy who had pulled out all the stops to get her her job back after she quit, giving her sleepless nights trying to figure him and his motives out. It had been Troy's door she'd knocked on having driven through a blizzard on Christmas Day, Troy who she kissed in the snow. It had been Troy who had spent a whole night with her at the hospital the night that Finley was born, convincing her once and for all that he was not intending to go anywhere and that he would like nothing better than for her to count on him. It was Troy who had instantly endeared himself to her family, spending the following Christmas and New Year making snow forts and cookies with them in Vermont and then proposing to her in Diego and Milla's snowy garden on New Year's Eve. It was Troy who had utterly rejected the idea that weddings had to be big and fancy, suggesting that it needed to involve little more than a church ceremony, a delicious dinner at _Flor_ and a two week honeymoon in Italy, and it was Troy who, on hearing the theory that had just come to her that neatly explained her sickness, her lateness and her tiredness, had first blinked, then grinned, then grabbed his wallet and left the house, returning fifteen minutes later with a bag of pregnancy tests.

"Hey." She was startled from out of her reverie by Troy nudging her. "You in there?"

"Sorry," she shook her head to clear it, "I was miles away."

"Trying to remember a time when you didn't love me?" He fluttered his eyelashes exaggeratedly.

Admitting that she had pretty much been doing just that was simply not an option. She shook her head. "Just wondering what K-Bake's up to."

He opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the floor manager. "And we're live in five, four, three..."

Gabby took her cue. "We're here in the Old Town Plaza with members of the University of New Mexico's drama department, who are rehearsing for their annual Live Nativity. We'll be catching up with their director, Ryan Evans, who will be telling us how an event like this gets put together."

"Also on today's show," said Troy, "we'll be reporting on the final preparations for Christmas throughout the city, and we'll also be meeting and thanking some of Albuquerque's unsung heroes for the work they do." He glanced at his watch. "It's 8:03, I'm Troy Bolton..."

"And I'm..." Gabby began, but her husband interrupted her.

"And she's Mariella Bonton-Moltez. Good M..." He was cut off by his wife's hand across his face, muffling his speech and effectively pushing him out of shot.

Gabby smiled winningly. "I'm Gabriella Montez-Bolton. Good Morning Albuquerque!"

**THE END**

* * *

**Holy cats, guys, it's THE END!**

**A list of references and inspirations for this story should include but not be limited to: all the Muppet Christmas movies, _Alias_, the _Diagnosis Murder_ novels, country music, musicals, baking, the BBC _Pride and Prejudice_, gag reels, _The Grinch_ (also known as _Taylor Momsen: What Happened?_), experimental cookery, Celine Dion's _A New Day_ Vegas show, origami turkeys, granola, Britney Spears and her video for _Oops!...I Did It Again_, both _Miracle on 34th Street_s, Mariah Carey's _All I Want For Christmas_, snow, _Dawson's Creek_, Hanson, lebkuchen, luminarias, the smell of Christmas trees, Nancy Drew, puzzle books, Martha Stewart, Simon Baker, coffee and pastries. And, of course, Kevin Bacon. Couldn't have done it without you, K-Bake.**

**A massive thank you to anyone who has stuck with this story, and an especially big thank you to everyone who has reviewed it or messaged me. It's really lovely to hear from you and I'm so, so glad you've enjoyed it.**

**Until next time,**

**FP x**


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